


Bokura no Bouken

by Kyogre



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Don't copy to another site, Gen, NaNoWriMo, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/pseuds/Kyogre
Summary: The last thing Alibaba remembered was conquering Amon. But instead of Qishan, he found himself in Parthevia, crashing straight into another kid with a new djinn and a whole lot of treasure. A boy who said his name was Sinbad.One dungeon conqueror can change the world. Two can change even fate.
Relationships: Alibaba Saluja & Sinbad
Comments: 187
Kudos: 499





	1. Dungeon conqueror

**Notes:** Inspired by  [ Wildcard ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238751/chapters/20952200) , but in reverse. Most of this was written for Nano 2019. 

~.~

**Chapter 1: Dungeon conqueror**

The last thing Alibaba remembered was clearing the dungeon. 

Near death, treasure, and even a djinn — it was a dungeon alright, straight out of a Sinbad story. Well, with a lot more screaming and fumbling, since Alibaba was no Sinbad, and Aladdin was... well, Aladdin was Aladdin, and even he didn’t seem to know what that really meant. 

_ ‘You are a brave person.’ ‘My friend.’ _

Whoever Aladdin was, most of all, he was Alibaba’s friend. Someone he could laugh with about the scary things, and someone who would face those scary things with him. And they had even made a promise together, to go on even more adventures. Yeah, that tunnel of light toward a glowing world below, laughing together with Aladdin, was the last thing Alibaba remembered. He thought he had probably drifted off. 

The next thing he knew was crashing straight into someone. He could tell it was a someone because that unfortunate person let out a startled grunt, matching Alibaba’s yelp. Both their voices were drowned out by the clatter of treasure scattering across the ground around them. 

Once the cling-cling-cling of golden plates, golden cups, golden crowns and necklaces and coins began to die down, their matched pained groaning could be heard. 

Squinting against the reflexive tears and clutching his aching head, Alibaba peered up at the other person, who was crouched in front of him, clutching his own head in a mirrored position. 

It was a boy, a few years younger than Alibaba, with a mess of long dark hair and ragged, rough clothing. 

“What happened?” the boy muttered, grimacing and looking around in confusion. “Wasn’t I just coming out of the dungeon?” 

“You too?” Alibaba blurted out. 

“Too? You mean, you were in the dungeon too?” 

“Probably a different one. I was in Amon, in Qishan. What about you?” 

The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “There’s more than one? Where’s Qishan? I’ve never heard of that!” 

What a country bumpkin, Alibaba thought. Smiling a little, he sat up and settled into a more comfortable position. Just a quick glance around was enough to confirm that they weren’t anywhere near Qishan anymore, the barren ground and hills completely different from the desert. Not knowing about a faraway city wasn’t surprising, but hadn’t everyone heard of dungeons? 

Aladdin hadn’t, but Aladdin was… Aladdin. 

“What about you? Where were you before?” Alibaba asked. 

“Between Partevia and Reim,” the boy said. His sharp golden eyes also darted around, noting something Alibaba couldn’t see. “This place… looks like Partevia. I recognize those cliffs, we’re not far from my village.” 

Maybe his djinn had sent him in the right direction. Maybe his djinn had liked him better than Amon had liked Alibaba, which was not at all. Was this supposed to be some kind of storybook lesson for him? Or maybe the cranky giant old man had just wanted to separate this moneygrubber he didn’t approve of from Aladdin and Morgiana — of whom there was no sign. 

“Qishan is on the other continent, to the east,” Alibaba explained. “It’s in the central desert.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t heard there was another dungeon in Partevia either.” 

That was hardly surprising, even for someone like Alibaba who liked to listen to dungeon stories and gossip. The world was large, and the dungeons were mysterious. The boy in front of him seemed to have the same thinking, and both of them nodded to themselves, accepting the situation. 

“More importantly,” Alibaba said, turning to a far more practical and immediate matter, “some of this should be yours, right? How are we going to figure out what is whose?”

He meant the treasure scattered all around them. 

“Eh… let’s just split it half and half,” the other boy decided. With this much, what was the point of squabbling? It seemed that, unlike Alibaba, riches had not been his primary goal for going into a dungeon. Easily dismissing the matter from his mind, he turned to Alibaba with excited eyes. “By the way, my name is Sinbad. Can you tell me more about this Qishan place? And the dungeon you went to?” 

Oh, like the dungeon conqueror, Alibaba almost said. But the poor kid had probably grown up hearing nothing but that. He was just old enough that his parents must have named him right after King Sinbad conquered his first dungeon fourteen years prior, when only Partevia knew about his feat. 

“I’m Alibaba,” he said instead. “Sure, I’ll tell you about it — if you tell me about yours!” 

Smiling and beginning to chat, first tentatively but with increasing cheer and familiarity, the two of them set to work. 

Neither of them was aware that someone was watching with a puzzled and thoughtful gaze. 

The fact that these two could act so freely and casually when faced with such treasure would have already been surprising to anyone familiar with the kind of dark desires dungeons could bring out in humans. Friends and sword brothers had betrayed each other over the winnings from a successful capture, to say nothing of strangers who had met by chance without witnesses or any chance of assistance. However, the person watching the two was aware of something far stranger. 

Yunan the wandered was a magi, after all, and he could sense the presence of a djinn’s metal vessel clearly. And there, in front of him, were two. 

Why were there two? There had clearly been only one dungeon in the world. 

Or… 

Ten thousand people over the course of a year had vanished into Baal’s tower, never to return. Yunan knew all about it, as he had kept watch over it in that time. But he had felt there was something different about Sinbad. Something dazzling and exceptional. The rukh seemed to sing with his every move. He had never seen or felt anything quite like it. 

This unique presence of his should have been enough to let him conquer a dungeon, Yunan had thought. Because of that, he had kept watch from near Baal, even as the Partevian army ebbed and flowed around the tower that had brought them both hope and ruin. 

He had felt the moment something shifted within the dungeon and the gate between worlds began to open once more. Yunan knew that sometimes, the transfer back was not entirely accurate, and he had readied himself to follow wherever Sinbad might be sent flying. Except… 

There had been something strange. 

Rather than a dungeon gate to the other world, it had felt almost like... 

The Sacred Palace. But that couldn’t be. That place was something separate, something that couldn’t be reached by the living. 

It had unsettled Yunan enough that he almost missed Sinbad’s return from the dungeon. Ignoring the panicked shouts and scrambling of the Partevian army as the dungeon began to sink into the ground now that its master was gone, he reached out mentally and searched. There were traces of two exits. There — a young soldier who had been dumped out at the edge of the dungeon’s small island. He would be picked up by the military before long... And there — Sinbad, back in Partevia, not too far from his home village. Baal must have liked him a lot, to attempt to help in this way. 

Gathering his magic, Yunan followed. ...Except that when he teleported to his location, Sinbad was not alone. And the other person was a king vessel too. 

Had Scheherazade raised a dungeon? But the older boy who had introduced himself as Alibaba did not have the look of a Reim citizen. And even then, this kind of ‘coincidental’ meeting… 

Frowning thoughtfully, Yunan remained in the shadows — and watched. 

~.~ 

In the end, they decided to hide the treasure nearby for now. There was just too much of it. Sinbad had prided himself on being able to carry two men’s worth of fish, on the rare days when the fishing had gone well in the past, but even so, it just wasn’t possible to transport all the gold and items at once. 

Since they were near Tison, he had instead suggested going ahead and getting help from the villagers. Doubtlessly just as exhausted by his adventure as Sinbad felt, Alibaba had agreed easily. 

His own adventure. Another dungeon, in a faraway place on a different continent. 

How cool was that? 

Sinbad’s eyes sparkled and his grin was wide enough to make his cheeks ache. He had just done something incredible, and now it felt like all of his dreams were in his grasp. All those amazing places Darius had told him of, and even more besides, were waiting for him. 

“—And then Baal said he would give his power to me and went into my sword!” Sinbad retold his tale excitedly. With overflowing energy, he even drew his father’s curved blade and held it up to the sun. The thin lines of the magic circle engraved on it seemed to glow with an inner light. 

Alibaba made a choking sound. “Baal?!” 

“Yeah, the djinn,” Sinbad said. Thinking for a moment, he realized this was the first time he had called Baal by name. “That’s what he said he’s called.” 

“But that’s…” For some reason, Alibaba’s expression remained caught in shock and disbelief. 

“Didn’t your djinn introduce themselves?” Sinbad wondered. “You did see a djinn, right? Did they accept you as their king?” When his new friend — maybe — continued to splutter, Sinbad crowded him impatiently. “Come one, did they go into your sword too? Show me!” 

“T-that… I don’t think so? Amon, his name was Amon, and he didn’t seem to like me much…” Alibaba answered slowly. But under Sinbad’s persistent nudging and expectant looks, he could only get carried along by the flow and unsheathed his short sword — more of a dagger, really. 

Not that it mattered. What mattered was the eight point star that gleamed on the surface of the metal. 

“Oh,” Alibaba said, twisting the knife this way and that as if he expected the magic seal to be just a trick of the light. 

“Looks like you’ve got some skill!” Sinbad said brightly, elbowing Alibaba. 

With a distinctly bemused look, Alibaba sheathed his dagger again and closed his eyes for a moment, as if to say ‘let’s not think about this for now.’ “Sin… Sinbad, are you sure the djinn said his name was Baal?” he asked instead. 

“I’m sure,” Sinbad said firmly. Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, “Why?” 

It was difficult to guess what Alibaba was thinking, but his expressive face was twisted with some confused feeling. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he forced a very awkward smile. “Haha, it’s nothing,” Alibaba said in a very unbelievable way. “It must be just my imagination. It has to be just my imagination...” 

Exceptionally suspicious. But less suspicious than Yunan, when you got down to it, and Sinbad had let that weirdo into his home. 

Even after everything that happened with Darius, he didn’t want to become a person who only looked at others with suspicion.

“Okay,” Sinbad said, smiling. It was satisfying to see the way Alibaba’s shoulders drooped in relief. The world was unreasonable and hard enough as it was, without people adding to each other’s burdens. 

Tison Village was just go ahead. 

His heart pounding, Sinbad sped up until he was nothing, leaving Alibaba trailing behind more sedately. Seeing a group of family figures passing between the houses ahead, he waved his arms and hollered, "Auntie! Auntie, everyone, I'm back! I did it! I conquered the dungeon!" 

The women turned, gaping at him shock. Sinbad couldn't help laughing. Then, the shock broke, and they rushed to surround him, patting and hugging. 

"Sin! It's really Sin!"

"Sin's back!" 

"Oh, where have you been? Do you know how worried Esra was?" 

That made Sinbad laugh again. "It's only been a few days!" Or so he thought. Telling time in the dungeon was hard, but he'd traveled to the dungeon for two days, gone in before noon, ran around inside without resting, and now returned with the sun high in the sky. It must have been about three days toal, but he had been gone for much longer before on various jobs. 

The expression on the women's faces made his cheer cool abruptly. Eyebrows burrowing, he looked between them. 

"Sin, it's been weeks," Auntie said. "We were afraid you wouldn't... and with Esra's health..." 

He didn't listen any further. Darting past them, he ran home. He thought he could hear Alibaba say something to the women perhaps introducing himself or giving an explanation or asking for, but Sinbad didn't pay them any mind. 

Suddenly, he had a terrible premonition. Just like watching the wind and the waves and knowing which way the next swell would come from, he could see the horrible way this would play out. 

It had been weeks. His mother, whose health had already been so weak, who had sent him off, telling him to find the thing only he could do and not worry about her anymore... 

Sinbad burst into their dilapidated home and rushed toward the bed without waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. "Mom!" he called out frantically. "Mom, I'm back—!" 

...And nearly crashed into Esra herself, who was sitting upright, a half-woven net in her lap. 

She blinked at him, momentarily too taken aback to react. Then, a warm smile lit up her wan face. "Sinbad," she said, reaching for him. "Oh, Sinbad, welcome home!" 

Without hesitation, he dive into her embrace, clutching tightly at her. Her skin was clammy, and she was trembling slightly. Even on a good day like this, when she could at least sit up, Esra was terribly frail. But she was alive, murmuring comforting words and fruitlessly smoothing down Sinbad's hair. It hadn't been a premonition, but just his fears. 

"Mom, I'm home," Sinbad said into her shoulder, voice muffled and choked. "I did it, I conquered the dungeon. I have so much gold now, and the djinn said he gave me he power of a king... I'm going to change the world, just like I said!"

"I know," Esra said fondly, still stroking his head like she had when he was a child. "I know. You're meant for something special, Sinbad. I knew you could do it..." 

When Sinbad had calmed enough to head back outside, he found Alibaba leaning against the wall of their hut, waiting. 

“Hey,” Alibaba called out, awkwardly raising his hand in greeting. “How’s your mom?” 

“She’s okay,” Sinbad smiled. “But for a moment there, I was really worried.” 

“...I know how that feels,” the other boy said. “My mom got sick too, and... But you’ve got lots of money now, so you can get medicine and good doctor for her. And you can buy a nice house, and good food. So, she’ll be fine.” 

Blurting all of that out in a rush, he cleared his throat and refused to meet Sinbad's gaze. 

"Yeah," Sinbad agreed. "I'll go to Contastia and get a doctor. ...After we get all the treasure over to the village. Even if no one really passes through that area, we shouldn't just leave it out." 

"Then how about I go," Alibaba offered, "while you and everyone here get the treasure to the village? Just tell me which direction to go." 

Sinbad’s eyebrows hitched. He wanted to run off to Contastia right that moment too, but... “Don’t we need to get the money first?” 

“Oh, I kept a little on me,” Alibaba grinned. 

How reliable, huh. 

Although it had been all of a sudden, maybe this too was part of the flow, guiding him onward. Thinking like that, Sinbad grinned. 

~.~

It made him feel a bit guilty, but Alibaba hadn’t volunteered to go to the nearby port city just out of the goodness of his heart. Sure, he had looked for medicine and a doctor first. But after buying the concoction and making an appointment for the old man to come to Tison Village the next day, he had made sure to catch some local gossip and ask a few questions. 

The result was... terrifying. 

One kid? Could be playing a joke. A small village? Could be in on it. Though for them to somehow be exactly where Amon dropped Alibaba was already strange. But an entire town, showing clear signs of hard times, talking about the old emperor of Partevia, about the war with Reim, about the dungeon that had appeared in the strait a year ago...? 

One kid named Sinbad with a djinn called Baal... 

It could only be one thing. 

“But how can it be time travel? That’s not possible!” Alibaba finally burst out, near tears. 

He had waited until he was well out of town and completely alone to have his well-deserved breakdown. If he was going to embarrass himself, he was at least going to do it without witnesses, both for his pride and to not get labeled a madman. 

Well, that was how it was supposed to be. But a voice suddenly came from in front of him. 

“You’re right. It’s not possible,” a man said — a man who definitely hadn’t been there before when Alibaba crouched and put his head between his knees to bemoan his fate. “There is no magic for traveling through time.” 

Alibaba looked up. The man smiled down at him. 

“My name is Yunan. I’m a wanderer,” he said. “But also, I am a guardian. So I’d like to hear where exactly it is you came from.” 

Although his smile was very gentle, it did not seem like refusing was an option. 

~.~ 


	2. Guidance

**Chapter 2: Guidance**

_ 'There is no magic for traveling through time, much less to the past. I am also a magi, but I couldn't do something like that, and neither can any djinn, or their dungeons. It's impossible.  _

_ 'However... dungeons do send you to another world. And there should be countless more worlds out there, unknown to us. I've always wondered how different those worlds might be, or how similar. It's possible they might even be almost exactly alike. If the Amon you met made a mistake in the transfer, then perhaps...  _

_ ‘The place you ended up is a world just like the past of yours.  _

_ 'As for getting back, I also do not know. Perhaps you'll be sent back if you go through another dungeon's gate. But it will likely be a matter of one chance in a million. And if you want to search for a magic that crosses dimensions, then the only one who might know are that girl Scheherazad in Reim or perhaps the Musta’sim magic academy.’ _

“Aaaaargh....” Making a sound like a dying monster, Alibaba collapsed against a cracked wall and clawed his way down to the dusty ground, where he curled up pathetically. 

Even a few days later, he hadn’t managed to straighten himself out. 

Being suddenly confronted by a mysterious man, Alibaba had of course felt uneasy, but after Yunan easily pressured him into spilling the whole story, he had felt a stirring of hope — that someone might make sense of this crazy situation and explain how Alibaba could fix it. 

No such luck. He wasn’t in the past, but he might as well be. And as for getting back... 

It couldn’t be impossible. It couldn’t. Alibaba had promised Aladdin, and he had promised himself — to return to Balbadd and finally pay back everything he owed. He couldn’t get stuck here, in this not-past with... with... 

With Sinbad.  _ The  _ Sinbad, except when he was still short and only the conqueror of one dungeon. 

Even through his panic and depression, Alibaba couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a weird grin, an excited gleam in his eyes.  _ The  _ Sinbad! About to start on his famous adventures! No, he’d started already, conquering Baal — Alibaba was right in the middle of Sinbad’s adventures! How cool was that?

...Adventures that he was already disrupting. Because wasn’t Sinbad supposed to end up at the dungeon’s location, surrounded by the Partevian army, whom he would suppress majestically with Baal’s power? What if he messed up Sinbad’s journey? That just wouldn’t be right! 

Alibaba drooped again, burying his face in his hands. 

This back and forth, up and down, had been going around and around in his head for days. 

The Tison villagers were starting to think there was something wrong with his head, with how he would zone out or start muttering to himself in the middle of the simple chores he had agreed to help with while Sinbad ran around settling matters — giving his half of the treasure to people around the area, who had been driven into poverty by the continuous war efforts. At least Esra’s health had slightly stabilized after some medicine and a visit from Contastia’s doctor. 

Before too much longer, Sinbad would be ready to set out, even if he didn’t seem to have much direction at the moment. Alibaba too needed to decide on a destination. 

A dungeon. A person called Scheherazade in Reim. The magic academy in Musta’sim. 

Those were his options. 

At this time, other dungeons hadn’t even appeared. And going from Partevia to Reim when they had just been going through decades of war was too dangerous. That left Musta’sim, which Alibaba didn’t know much about. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of it. 

On more immediate matters, there was the issue of his treasure. How was he supposed to transport all of it while traveling around? It was like asking to get robbed. But leaving it felt too depressing for words. This was the result of his and Aladdin’s dungeon adventure, and his long-awaited way of helping Balbadd. Could he try leaving it in Tison Village? That didn’t seem like a solution, especially if the military came looking for Sinbad later. 

Frustrated, Alibaba palmed his face again. Why was he always like this? Always hesitating and worrying too much? 

It looked like another day would be wasted on the same circular thoughts — until Sinbad returned from town early. His expression was grim, making Alibaba immediately abandon his fruitless attempts at sorting old baskets in the corner. 

“What happened?” he asked, hurrying over. 

Glancing around, Sinbad pulled him aside and said in a quiet, tense voice, “The army’s at Contastia. They’re trying to set an ambush for me, I barely managed to make it out. That guy Drakon must have told them what happened in the dungeon. Since I haven’t gone to turn my treasure and Baal’s power over to the military like a good patriotic citizen, they want to take it by force.” 

But with Sinbad’s power, shouldn’t he be able to just fight his way through? Alibaba almost asked that, before the obvious answer occurred to him. 

Esra. Sinbad could run or fight, but what about his ill mother? She wasn’t nearly well enough for a rough journey, and if she was taken hostage... 

“They’ll start moving on Tison Village before long if I don’t show up,” Sinbad went on. Hesitating for a moment, he added, “They shouldn’t know anything about you, or about your djinn. There hasn’t been anyone to tell them. So if you set out now, they probably won’t give chase.” 

“No way,” Alibaba said immediately. Hadn’t he already decided not to just leave it to ‘someone’ to face the injustices in front of him? He wouldn’t let down Aladdin’s expectations like that. “About Madam Esra, the only thing we can do is split up. I’ll help her escape, while you draw their attention.” 

“But Mom’s health...” 

Pressing his lips together tightly, Alibaba nodded. But what else could they do? 

“Then,” someone said suddenly next to them, “why don’t I give you a free ride?” 

“Gah!” Alibaba yelped and jumped aside, hand going to his dagger. Sinbad reacted more sedately, but he also reached for his sword, before catching sight of the intruder. Then, he relaxed, a smile slipping onto his face. 

“Yunan!” Sinbad greeted the strange magi who had accosted Alibaba before — and been no help whatsoever. 

“You know him?” Alibaba asked. 

“Yeah! He’s the one who told me to go to the dungeon and get Baal’s power.” 

That made sense. Amon and even Jamil had said something about magi choosing kings, and Sinbad was the greatest king in the world. It made perfect sense for a magi to have chosen him from the start. In that case, Yunan had most likely been hanging around to watch over him... at least Alibaba hoped so. It was better than thinking Yunan had been hanging around watching  _ him  _ while he flailed and did absolutely nothing in the most un-kingly way. 

“You and your mother kindly let me stay with you, so I’d like to repay you,” Yunan said. “Pick a destination, and I will send you there.” 

By magic, presumably. Sinbad nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “A destination... Reim would be the most obvious, but we’re Partevians. I’m not sure if we’d be greeted warmly there. Maybe over the sea to Aktia Kingdom? I don’t really know any other countries...” 

“T-then...”Alibaba said slowly, “how about Balbadd?” 

~.~

Balbadd was a coastal kingdom composed mostly of small islands, although its capital city was at the tip of a large peninsula. It was a trading center which gathered goods and people from all over the world. It’s climate was warm and humid, but overall mild. 

That was how Alibaba described it. It was also his homeland. 

More importantly, Balbadd remained neutral and did not wage war. It was a peaceful country. 

Yunan dropped them off on the outskirts and disappeared. The first night, they had spent at an inn, but after that, Alibaba used some of the remaining treasure to purchase a manor for them. It had, he explained, a small but lovely shaded garden and stood next to a canal. The atmosphere was very tranquil and just right for recovering from illness. There was even a market nearby with all kinds of good on sale, if Esra recovered enough to take a walk and look around. 

“A few servants would probably be good, to take care of the place,” Alibaba added. “If you don’t mind, I could find someone.” 

“Sure,” Sinbad agreed. “I’ll leave it to you. And about the cost... I’ll pay you back, I promise.” 

After all, the remaining treasure that they were using was all Alibaba’s. Sinbad sighed mentally. He had been too rash giving away everything. He should have kept at least a few small things to sell later, if not for himself, than for his mother. Not foresee that the Partevian army would chase after him had been too shortsighted as well. 

He still had a long way to go. He couldn’t afford to be so casual. If Yunan and Alibaba hadn’t been there... 

“Don’t worry about it. I need a place to stay too,” Alibaba said, waving away his concerns. 

Even though this was his hometown, he didn’t have a place to stay. Sinbad carefully made note of that. But since he didn’t think Alibaba was tricking him, he didn’t say anything. 

He didn’t say anything even when Alibaba inexplicably wrapped up his head and hid his face, and brought in a servant woman who looked a whole lot like him. Her name was Anise, and she had a very kind smile. Under her new uniform, she had the same signs of short rations and poor living conditions as Sinbad and his mother. 

So it was something like that. Watching her support Esra as his mother took a slow walk around the garden, Sinbad nodded to himself. 

“Hey, Alibaba,” he called out, only to get immediately shushed. Raising one eyebrow, he went on, “Come spar with me. Remember, Yunan said we need to figure out how to use the djinns’ power.” 

“Okay, okay, I will, but call me Ali, okay?” Alibaba hissed, looking around frantically. 

“Sure, then you can call me Sin,” Sinbad said with a somewhat mocking smirk. He had a certain idea why Alibaba suddenly didn’t want his name mentioned. Same reason he was pulling nervously at his headwrap to better hide his face and trying to make sure Anise hadn’t heard him. Sinbad could imagine the general story. 

With his eyes, he tried to convey that he wasn’t going to make a fuss, but Alibaba didn’t seem to understand. 

To avoid both witnesses and any property destruction they might cause, they went all the way to the outskirts to train. Facing each other, they gingerly drew their swords. A dusty wind blew through the abandoned area. 

“...So now what?” Sinbad wondered, turning his father’s blade this way and that. The sunlight glinted on the eight point star engraved in the blade, but it seemed to be the same worn old sword as always. 

“Well, it’s the djinn’s power, so I guess we can try asking?” Alibaba suggested. He had sounded uncertain while saying this, but when he let out a breath and straightened, Sinbad could see the change in his demeanor, like a wave cresting. Holding his dagger in front of him in a ceremonial salute, he said in a slow, heavy tone, “Djinn of austerity and decorum, I command thee and thy household...” 

That was called asking? But something in Sinbad’s chest resonated with the words. 

“Djinn of wrath and heroes,” he recalled how Baal had addressed himself in the dungeon, “I command thee and thy household...” 

“Use my magoi to lend tremendous power to my will!” 

“Use my magoi to lend tremendous power to my will!” 

What was magoi, exactly? What was he saying? 

“Come forth, Amon!” 

“Come forth, Baal!” 

Fire and lightning sprang toward the sky. 

Although Sinbad had started a moment later, once he began, he had been carried along by the momentum of the incantation, and they finished at the same time. The same but different power crackled through them both. Looking up at the vivid red and pale blue pillars rising upward, Sinbad grinned — and swung his sword. 

“Gyah!” Alibaba yelped in surprise, as he was forced to quickly block. The two magics cancelled each other out, but Sinbad didn’t stop. 

“Come on!” he called out, quickly closing the distance and slashing at him. “Let’s have a duel! We’re both dungeon conquerors, aren’t we? How else can we find out our limits?” 

Alibaba scowled at him, unimpressed, but his irritation quickly crumbled under Sinbad’s cheerful grin. He thought it was cool too, after all. Who wouldn’t? No one else in the world had this kind of power. 

...Well, maybe. Maybe there was another dungeon conqueror somewhere far away, just like Sinbad hadn’t even known about the dungeon in that Qishan place. But if such a person existed, they weren’t right there with them, and they certainly weren’t only just discovering how to use their powers, like them. 

That person hadn’t been brought to meet Sinbad by fate, not like Alibaba. 

“Fine, you’re on!” Alibaba called out, sidestepping so gracefully it looked like a dance. He raised his dagger again, his other arm folded behind his back. “But go easy on me.” 

“You’re older than me, and you’re saying that?” Sinbad laughed. 

Older and definitely far better trained. Sinbad didn’t actually know anything about using a sword. He’d never even had one until his mother handed his father’s old soldier’s blade before he headed out to the dungeon. When it came to knowing how to use it, he could only rely on reading his opponent and the flow of the battle. 

He could more or less read Alibaba too, it was just that his motions were so smooth and fluid that the moment Sinbad changed his approach, Alibaba would change his direction too. He never blocked or let himself be backed into a corner, always staying half a step ahead. 

This was a ‘sword style’ — a method created, refined and then taught over a long period of time. 

“Baal!” Sinbad called out, just as he was about to make another glancing parry. 

A blast of lightning shot out, making Alibaba almost stumble as he quickly ducked out of the way. The huffy look he received only made Sinbad smile wider. “You can do it too! That’s the whole point!” he yelled. “Baal!” 

Now, after a few times using it, he could feel something flowing through him, and he could begin to direct it. Lightning flashed again and again, soon beginning to curve and give chase. Scowling, Alibaba brushed off a bolt that had come too close with a wave of flames. 

“Come on, come on!” Sinbad laughed. 

He had to swallow his overconfidence a moment later, when Alibaba darted past his next lightning blast and closed in, flames trailing behind him. A sharp sense of danger flashed through Sinbad’s mind, and he scrambled out of the way. Alibaba’s dagger shouldn’t have been nearly long enough to reach him, but his instincts were screaming — correctly. A long black blade swept just past him, giving off an impossible heat. 

“Whoa, wait, what is that?” Sinbad wondered, staring in surprise. 

“Ah? This...?” Alibaba looked down as well, his eyes widening as he stared at the black sword he was holding and the burning veins running up his arms. 

“How did you do that? Can you show me?” Sinbad demanded excitedly.    
  


Alibaba looked back up at him and opened his mouth as if to reply, only to pause. The power he’d gathered faded, leaving him holding just his dagger. Scratching at his head, he frowned. 

“I don’t... know?” he said. He looked very troubled by that. 

Sinbad burst out laughing. 

~.~ 

They stayed out the rest of the afternoon and found out that Alibaba could easily call up that black sword and the partial transformation that came with it, although he still couldn’t really explain how or why. Sinbad struggled to do the same, but although he could understand the general direction of it, he couldn’t quite manage it... yet. 

But it was enough of a start. 

“Say, Alibaba,” Sinbad said as they slowly walked home in the twilight, “what are you going to do from here?” 

“Me? Uh... What about you?” Alibaba deflected, looking away. 

This fishy guy... “I don’t know,” Sinbad said frankly. “But Mom told me to go out and make my own path, not just stay and worry about her. With the house and the money and Miss Anise to help, I think she’ll be alright. As for where I’ll go... I told Yunan that I want the power of a king to change the world. I want to make a world without wars.” Despite this declaration, he laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know where to even start with that though.” 

“Mm...” Alibaba made a sound of agreement, then trailed off into silence. His eyebrows had furrowed again as he thought deeply, just like back in Tison Village. 

Did that mean he was going to be useless for days again? 

“I... need to go to another dungeon,” Alibaba said. “I need to check something. I heard one appeared in Imuchakk, to the extreme north. How about going together? Maybe you can get another djinn. And doesn’t a country of snow sound interesting?” 

“Imuchakk, in the far north... a country of snow...” Sinbad repeated. “That does sound interesting! I’m in!” 

Alibaba sighed in relief. “Then we’re back on track...” 

“For what?” 

“N-nothing! Forget about it!” 

For now, Sinbad didn’t ask further. 

~.~

**Notes:** There is a reason Alibaba can Weapon Equip. There is a certain Plot behind Alibaba being in the past, which does not really line up with Yunan’s guess. 

I’m actually unsure whether Yunan can do teleportation and, if so, how far. In the manga, he just flies Sinbad over to Tison. And in chapter 297, Yamraiha says that teleportation magic could only be used by three people. The silhouettes in the image are Judar, Scheherazade and herself. But in the Sinbad anime, Yunan is basically shown teleporting in and out, and in the manga, Sinbad even teases Judar by saying that the magi he knows can teleport, among other feats. So it’s probably just that Yamraiha doesn’t know anything about Yunan. Overall, I want this to happen, so.... 

  
~.~


	3. Interlude 1: Birthday

**Interlude 1: Birthday**

When Yunan teleported the three of them from Partevia to the outskirts of Balbadd, they had been accompanied by six sacks stuffed with treasure — Alibaba's half of the combined rewards from Baal and Amon. Although he had considered himself a very money-conscious person since the incident two years prior, always saving every copper and scrounging for ways to earn more, he spent this quantity rather freely to buy them a place to stay while they regrouped and acquire all the necessities to make it comfortable. 

Given the situation, there was almost no chance he'd be able to take it back to his own world with him, so why bother being miserly? 

Of course, leaving the remaining treasure in their newly acquired manor would have been asking for trouble, so he had exchanged it for bank notes from a few banks that would still enjoy good standing in another decade — hopefully. 

The only things left were some coins for daily expenses... and the magic tools. 

Alibaba only remembered that such things came from dungeons when he was sorting the treasure in preparation for taking it to the bank to exchange — it was good to at least estimate how much he had, so as not to get completely ripped off. When he and Sinbad split their combined rewards, they had done it rather casually by number of sacks. So most likely... Sinbad had already given away some magic tools to the locals in Tison and Contastia. 

He rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. That seemed like it could be trouble in various ways. 

But there was nothing to be done about it now. 

His own share of magic tools Alibaba stashed in a few nondescript crates in the most isolated corner of the manor. If someone targeted them eventually, it would be better if the thieves could get at them without needing to go through the residents. 

Even excluding the magic tools, the value of the treasure was easily enough for everyone in the manor to live on for the rest of their lives, and Alibaba had already decided to leave it with them. 

Although obviously relieved, Sinbad had been not entirely willing to just accept this level of good will. “Are you sure?” he wondered, scrunching up his eyebrows. “It’s... a lot. It’s my fault for not thinking about Mom and just giving away everything. It’s just like what Dad did...” He sighed. “I promise I’ll pay you back someday.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alibaba assured him, waving his hands awkwardly. “You don’t expect everyone you help to pay you back either, right? It’s the same. Anyway, I have my own reasons.” 

And he did. It wasn’t just for Esra’s sake that he picked out the manor, staffed it, and settled their expenses. 

After all, one of the first people he hired was his mother. Or at least this world’s version of her. 

Anise was just the same as his blurry childhood memories — bright and cheerful and kind, almost enough to hide the strain put on her by the harsh life of the slum folk. But hopefully her generous new salary would help. Maybe she wouldn't even get sick this time... in this world. 

Alibaba almost felt guilty about the nepotism of not only hiring her but placing her as functionally the head servant, in charge of the accounts and directly serving Esra. He had used her experience as a palace maid as an excuse, but it was really just because he wanted her to live well — and Cassim and Mariam, when Anise took them in. 

At least he knew that Anise would not wrong Esra, so it wasn't like he was doing something wrong. 

...Even so, having all this money, Alibaba couldn't just leave it. It wasn't good to leave it lying around the house either, even if he separated and hid batches of bank notes in a variety of places. 

Why not invest it? Just a little. 

After all, Alibaba had a certain cheat — knowing the future, or something like it. 

Even if something changed and some of those businesses did not reach the same success as before, as long as he invested in several, it was highly unlikely that all of them would fail. Additionally, it wasn’t like he was going to spend a lot. Just a few small loans here and there... with a perfectly reasonable interest rate... 

The look Sinbad gave him, the one time he attended an investment negotiation with Alibaba, had been completely undeserved. 

“So you have a side like that, huh?” Sinbad had muttered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? With interest?” 

“Those interest rates are standard!” Alibaba insisted. 

Looking him dead in the eye, Sinbad said one word — “Loanshark.” 

Alibaba nearly strangled him. After that, Sinbad no longer asked any questions about the matter of money, simply entrusting that Alibaba had it handled sufficiently. 

Now that they had decided to depart for Imuchakk and the dungeon that was to appear there, Alibaba supposed he needed to make some arrangements regarding his investments. Sailing to the extreme north would take at least a couple months, and some of the loans were meant to be repaid after only three or six months. 

And... if everything went well, he’d be back in his own world, never to claim the repayment and interest at all. 

It would make the most sense to leave them in Esra’s hands, as she would be the mistress of the manor and the one actually in Balbadd for the foreseeable future. However, although she had recovered well with proper food and medicine and rest, her health was still weak and Alibaba doubted she knew even the slightest thing about managing money. 

The one actually managing money was... 

“Sir Ali?” A woman’s voice called out from the doorway to the office — or least the room that contained a table and all the records in the manor. 

It was Anise. 

Jumping in surprise, Alibaba scrambled to pull his headwrap over his face. “Y-yes?” he replied, muffled through the cloth. 

“Madam Esra asked to see you,” Anise said. “She’s in the garden. If you are not busy, I will take you.” 

Esra? Alibaba’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

Aside from when Sinbad introduced them, shortly after they first arrived in Tison Village, Alibaba wasn’t sure he’d ever even spoken to her. Sinbad had been the one to explain everything to her and relay all their decisions and changes in circumstances to her as well. If there was anything she wanted to discuss, wouldn’t it have been with Sinbad first of all? 

“...Alright,” Alibaba said slowly, rising from the desk. “Please lead the way.” 

Anise smiled and bowed. It was incredibly awkward. 

The manor itself was not particularly large and not remarkable on the whole. It was the kind of building a reasonably well off family could afford, if they pooled their savings after some time. What drove the price up and marked it as an indulgence was the garden taking up the large back courtyard. 

There were no trees, but the entire enclosure was well shaded by a canopy of climbing vines, which kept the garden pleasantly cool even in Balbadd’s heat. When they first bought the manor, the winding paths had become overgrown and the stone benches had been all but devoured by the large shrubs. But now, everything had been groomed nicely, creating a pleasant, leisurely atmosphere — the sort of place that would be beneficial to the recovery of an ill woman, Alibaba thought. 

Losing a mother to illness was painful. He didn’t want Sinbad to experience that, not for as long as possible. 

As he and Anise made their way deeper into the garden, excited, high-pitched laughter drifted through the air. It sounded like a child, a young one, and Alibaba suddenly understood when Anise quickened her stride. 

“Alibaba!” she called out, hurrying to one of the benches, where an older woman was sitting with a toddler. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother the madam?” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Esra assured her, patting the small boy next to her on the head. “He was just keeping me company. It’s nice to have a young child around again. They have so much energy, makes even an old woman like me feel lively.” 

“If it’s alright with Madam,” Anise demured. “We’ll leave you and Sir Ali. Please call me if there is anything.” 

When she gestured to him, her young son hopped off the bench and scurried over to her side, immediately clinging to her skirt. He glanced back at Esra, sucking at his thumb. She waved to him with a gentle smile. 

As Anise and her son walked away, she lightly scolded him, “Aiya, Alibaba, what happened to your shoes...” 

Turning to Alibaba — the adult one — Esra patted the bench next to her. “If you don’t mind joining me, ‘Sir Ali’,” she invited. The way her eyes curved happily was just like Sinbad’s, when he thought he was being very clever. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly and dropped down onto the bench. Reaching up, he pushed back the cloth in front of his face. At least she couldn’t see the way his ears were burning. 

Sinbad and his mother both seemed to have come to some weird conclusions about Alibaba’s connection to Anise. There was no helping it. It wasn’t as if he could explain or they could guess the truth, impossible and unbelievable as it was. 

“Was... there something I can help you with, Madam Esra?” he asked. 

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that. I’m no madam,” Esra said. “Please just call me Esra. We already owe you so much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Like mother, like son. “I didn’t do anything,” Alibaba pointed out. “Sinbad is the one who conquered a dungeon, and Yunan is the one who sent us out of Partevia. Compared to that, I just helped arrange some things. You don’t need to thank me.” 

“Alright,” Esra said, her smile widening. “But even so, please accept my gratitude — for being Sinbad’s friend, if nothing else.” 

“F-friend? Well, that’s...” Unsure how to respond, Alibaba ducked his head. 

Could he and Sinbad be considered friends? 

They were both dungeon conquerors, and close in age. They had run from a country together, trained together, and planned to tackle another dungeon together. They got along well and had an easy camaraderie. At the very least, Alibaba wouldn’t hesitate to say they were companions, if only temporarily. 

But did that make them friends? When he thought of the word ‘friend’, the ones who came to mind were Aladdin... and Cassim. And as nice as Sinbad was, as well as they got along, as much as Alibaba liked him, the level of feelings was different — facing life and death together did that. But just how much feeling was necessary to be considered friends, really? 

No, more importantly — did Alibaba have the guts to call the Conqueror of the Seven Seas, even this younger version, a friend so casually? 

He absolutely did not. 

Thankfully unaware of his thoughts, Esra went on. 

“It’s a little awkward to say this, especially after all that, but the truth is that I have something I’d like to ask for your help with,” she said. “You see, in one week, it’ll be Sinbad’s birthday. He’ll be fifteen.” 

“Oh!” Alibaba’s eyes widened in surprise. To think it was only a few days apart...

“I know he’ll be leaving soon. He’s grown so much now, and he’s destined for great things,” Esra said. “But I’d like to treat him as my child one more time. I’ve asked Anise to help with arranging things, but for the present, I need your help. We lived a poor life for so long, we’ve only been able to give practical, necessary things, if we could afford anything at all. Just this once, I’d like to give him something just for him.” 

Alibaba nodded. He understood. Although his time with his mother, Cassim and Mariam had been the happiest days of his life, it hadn’t been an easy life. Sometimes the only thing they could receive was an extra long hug, as they struggled to scrape together enough money to even eat once a day. 

“Do you have something in mind?” 

“A scroll,” Esra said firmly. “He can’t read it now, but he will in the future, I know it. And what Sinbad’s always loved the most are stories about faraway places. Is there some scroll like that?” 

“There is,” Alibaba assured her. “I’ll look for a good one. With pictures.” 

They shared a smile. 

The future conqueror-king who would change the world... but for now, he was still a fourteen year old boy. A boy with a friend and a mother who loved him dearly. 

~.~

Ever since he and Alibaba had come to a decision about their departure, Sinbad had been nearly vibrating with anticipation. Overflowing with energy, he had volunteered to take care of all the preparations for sailing to the extreme north — insisted on it, really — and he had been running around Balbadd in pursuit of just that for days. 

They needed supplies, of course. Also, a map and any advice possible on the route. What landmarks were there along the very long coast? What bearings should they take and for how long? What was the weather like? Sinbad was confident in his sailing skills and intuition, but more information wouldn’t hurt. 

Beyond that, they needed a ship. Large enough for two people and potentially large amounts of treasure, but also small and simple enough to be manned by just one, since Alibaba admitted to having no seagoing experience at all. Since he was like that and the weather would quite possibly be poor, it would be better to have at least a cabin he could hide in... 

Sinbad’s head spun a little with all these considerations, but mostly he just felt an overwhelming surge of excitement. 

This was it. This was what a real adventure felt like — this was what he’d always dreamed of! 

Sailing off to a faraway land of rumors, searching for a mystic treasure, gaining countless new experiences... It was all in his grasp now. 

The day before their decided upon departure date — which Alibaba had inexplicably moved a week prior — Sinbad rushed home to declare the good news of his accomplishments. Conveniently, Alibaba had been waiting in the front hall. He jumped as the door was thrown open and his companion burst inside. 

“Done! Everything is ready to go!” Sinbad declared. 

“...Okay,” Alibaba agreed. He sighed, clutching some documents he’d been looking over to his chest. “Just… just come in and close the door.” 

Sinbad’s mouth twitched. This guy had the soul of an old woman and he complained about as much too. “Come on, be a little come excited,” Sinbad urged him. “We have a ship! And a destination! An adventure!” 

“Okay, okay,” Alibaba repeated. Waving to a servant who had peeked out from one of the inner rooms, he gestured for Sinbad to sit down next to him. “Tell me about it.” 

Sinbad settled onto the couch, only to start fidgeting excitedly almost right away. Jumping to his feet again, he began to pace small circles in front of Alibaba. “We have a ship,” he explained, gesticulating broadly. “It’s nothing too big, but there’s a cabin and a sizeable hold, for anything we pick up. There’s plenty of supplies and…” 

Alibaba nodded along, somewhat distractedly. He did know the basics of what was necessary for sea voyages, just like he seemed to know at least something about everything and never be entirely at a loss, so it shouldn’t have been that he didn’t understand what Sinbad was explaining. Was he really just that unexcited? It couldn’t be. What young man didn’t dream of adventure? They were only a few years apart! Did those few years really have the power to turn you this dull? 

“...Are you listening?” Sinbad wondered, trailing off. 

“Yes, of course,” Alibaba answered immediately. 

“Then what did I just say?” 

The two of them stared at each other. Sinbad turned away first, palming his face. He sounded just like his mom, he realized. 

Before he could figure out how to react, Anise slipped into the front hall — sending Alibaba scrambling to hide his face from her, as if he really thought she hadn’t already seen him around the house countless times. “Young Master,” she called out, making Sinbad squirm a little on reflex, “Madam is looking for you. If you would follow me…” 

“Did anything happen?” Sinbad asked as they walked. “Is Mom…” 

Anise smiled and held a finger to her lips. 

A delicious, terribly familiar scent wafted over from the room they stopped in front of. “Madam, Young Master is here,” Anise announced and, with a quick bow to Sinbad, retreated. 

He had to admit, his curiosity had been piqued. Based on the delicious aroma, he could guess the what — it could only be Esra’s home cooking — but he couldn’t imagine why all the secrecy and stalling. It wasn’t as if he and Esra didn’t eat together every evening. He’d always made sure to return from training or exploring or preparations early enough, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he departed for an unforeseeable length of time. 

Was it because they were leaving tomorrow? Making this guess, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. 

As he had expected, a table full of numerous dishes had been set for two. The ingredients were somewhat different, but it was all clearly Partevian cuisine, something he had to admit he missed sometimes, no matter how he interesting he found the many dishes of varied origin available in Balbadd. 

“Sinbad, welcome back,” Esra greeted him. “And, happy birthday.” 

...Ah. “Heh,” Sinbad chuckled, “I forgot about that.” 

Smiling, Esra waved him over. “I thought so,” she said. “The last few years, we couldn’t do anything at all. I guess it’s natural not to look forward to it... But this time, all of this is for you. I haven’t cooked for a while, so I hope the taste isn’t too bad. Don’t force yourself if I made a mistake, okay?” 

Personally, Sinbad thought it was more because he wasn’t a kid anymore, to be counting every birthday. But looking at his mother’s smiling, almost glowing face, he could only smile back and readily start piling food onto his plate. 

“‘s delicious!” he mumbled around a mouthful. Swallowing everything down and reaching for more, he added, “With a present like this, I’ll definitely look forward to birthdays more!” 

Esra laughed and ruffled his hair. Sinbad endured it with good grace. “I’ll definitely be happy if you visit every year! But that’s not your real gift.” 

“There’s more?” 

“There’s more,” Esra agreed happily. “But first — eat up, birthday boy!” 

~.~ 

Tapping the neat rows of writing on a scroll, Alibaba asked, “Do you understand?” 

“M-more or less...” Anise said. She didn’t sound or look very sure, with her brows furrowed deeply and biting her lip. “But, Sir Ali, I only learned a little writing at... my previous job... I don’t have any experience with this kind of matter.” 

“Of course you do. You’ve kept track of how much money you receive and how much you spend, right? It’s the same principle,” Alibaba assured her. “The totals of what was loaned and how much they should pay back when are all written here. You just need to receive it when they pay back and confirm that it’s the right amount. All of the loans were confirmed with these banks, so if someone tries to refuse to pay, you can go directly to the bank and have them deal with it.” 

As a merchant nation, Balbadd was very serious about matters of money, and Alibaba had gone the extra step of having all the contract signings observed and confirmed by a third party. If someone seriously tried to weasel out of paying, they could be reported to the authorities for their punishment, which would be anything for being temporarily blacklisted until they repaid what they owed to even a criminal sentence. 

Slowly, Anise nodded. 

“Don’t worry. I know you can do it,” Alibaba said with absolute certainty. He had explained entrusting the task of managing his investments to Anise as a necessity, given Esra’s weak health and the other servants’ lack of even Anise’s rudimentary reading ability. But the truth was that he would have always picked her first no matter what. 

“If Sir Ali believes so, then I will do my best not to let you down,” Anise finally agreed. 

“Great! Then, since you’ll be handling an additional responsibility, you can go ahead and add another twenty to your salary...” Alibaba started to say, pulling out the manor’s ledger. 

“No, no! That’s not right!” Anise protested. “There’s no need! My salary is already too much for just a servant!” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alibaba said, ignoring her protests and putting an additional mark next to her name. “This way, you can buy your son a present for his birthday. He’ll be four in a few days, right?” 

Anise’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, Sir Ali... you know about that?” she said, her tone slightly strange. 

The look she gave him was strange too. It seemed like she was overthinking a small detail he could have found out by accident in a number of ways, and not because he was a time traveler who knew his own birthday. Suddenly, Alibaba had the strong impression that she, like Sinbad and Esra, had come to her own conclusions about his background. 

But that didn’t make any sense. If he considered how it looked from Sinbad’s perspective, Alibaba could vaguely guess what he and his mother were assuming — between his resemblance to Anise and his own child self, Anise’s status as a single mother with no partner in sight, and Alibaba’s not entire subtle reactions to her. 

Anise, however, knew very well her own family situation, or lack thereof. She couldn’t have possibly taken him for a brother, cousin, whatever like Sinbad and Esra seemed to have. 

What in the world was she thinking? 

“Sir Ali, just what is that you...” Anise started, only to trail off, pursing her lips. After a moment of deep internal conflict that flickered across her open, expressive face, she shook her head and smiled again. “I won’t let you down,” she repeated. 

What Alibaba had overlooked was that he resembled both his parents. The truth was naturally too preposterous for Anise to guess, but when she looked at him, the face she thought of wasn’t her own. Rather, it was that of the 22nd king of Balbadd. 

There were no immediate branches in the royal family, but that didn’t mean there were none at all. 

Was it possible this was that man’s kindness...? 

Sneaking another glance at ‘Sir Ali’, Anise chose to remain silent. At the palace, she had learned that there were some things better left unspoken. 

Of course, there were also things that needed to be said, or they would remain an eternal regret. 

~.~ 

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” Sinbad realized when they were two days out of Balbadd and had settled into smooth sailing across the smooth blue sea. “What about you? When is your birthday?” 

Alibaba blinked and frowned thoughtfully. He ignored Sinbad’s raised eyebrows at the complicated thinking this seemingly simple question required. 

When he went into Amon, it had been two months after his birthday, and he had just turned seventeen. When he came out, it was fourteen years in the past and also three months earlier. In a way, his birthday was tomorrow. But it wasn’t like he was actually turning eighteen. How to even count in a situation like that? 

“Well... it’s not for a while,” Alibaba said finally, with an awkward smile. 

In a way, it was true. Alibaba Saluja’s eighteenth’s birthday was not for a very long time yet. 

~.~


	4. Imuchakk

~.~

**Chapter 3: Imuchakk**

“Achoo! Man, it’s cold...” Alibaba muttered, his teeth chattering. “Sin! Put on a cloak, you’ll freeze!” 

The idiot at the prow didn’t listen. Alibaba had no idea how he was still so energetic despite wearing only his old short-sleeved tunic. They were well on their way to Imuchakk — they could tell because they were already surrounded by floating ice. It was only Sinbad’s preternatural ability to read the sea that kept them from crashing. 

As someone who had lived his entire life on Balbadd’s balmy coast and then out in the desert, Alibaba morally objected to this. 

But what choice did he have? Even though he didn’t need to worry about messing up history since this wasn’t really the past of his world, Alibaba thought it would be too much of a shame if Sinbad’s great journey didn’t occur as it should. And Valefor in the frozen north was the famous second dungeon that Sinbad had conquered. 

When Sinbad wondered where to go, what could Alibaba do except suggest Imuchakk? 

It worked out for Alibaba too. He could try Yunan’s first suggestion — going into another dungeon, to see if the gate sent him back where he belonged. 

But why did it have to be so cold?

If Sinbad wasn’t going to wear the spare cloak, then Alibaba would, right over the two cloaks already on him. 

“There’s something up ahead,” Sinbad said suddenly, leaning forward to peer across the icy sea. 

“Land?” Alibaba asked hopefully. 

“No,” Sinbad said. “It’s coming closer. Hold on!” 

His warning was too late. Their small ship heaved suddenly, sending Alibaba rolling across the deck. He managed to grab hold of the railing just in time to keep from going overboard, but the ship continued to buck wildly, frigid waves splashing over the sides. 

"What's going on?!" Alibaba hollered. 

As if in answer, something burst out of the water and arched through the air, trailing sparkling droplets. 

It was huge, easily several times larger than their small ship. Its long, thick body blotted out the sun as it passed overhead, and the splash as it struck back into the water on the other side was like an explosion. The ship jumped again, nearly capsizing. 

“Whoa I’ve never seen a fish so big!” Sinbad exclaimed in admiration. 

“That’s clearly a monster!” 

Sinbad laughed, his heart already set and Baal’s sword in his hand. “I gonna to catch it!” 

“NO!” 

...Huh? Just now, hadn’t someone else yelled the same protest as Alibaba? Sinbad and Alibaba both blinked in surprise and looked up, as an unknown black spot sailed overhead and dropped toward them. It hit the deck like a stone, making the wood creak threateningly. 

It was a giant man. Why was everything so giant? Was this just how things got in the far north? 

“No!” the man yelled again, jabbing a finger at Sinbad. “That rampaging unicorn is my prey! I’m the one who’ll catch it!” 

Sinbad’s eyebrows rose, though his grin was amused and interested, rather than appropriately scared or put off. If anything, he appeared to find the challenge exciting. “We’ll see about that!” Sinbad called out. “You haven’t caught it yet, so it’s fair game!” He turned, sword raised, just as the ‘rampaging unicorn’ burst out from under the waves again, its red horn glinting in the sun. 

A smaller figure followed it up, and flung itself toward Sinbad. 

“Not so fast!” the girl — giant girl, easily Sinbad’s height and more muscled — yelled. She crashed into him, and the pair went down in a tangle of limbs, Sinbad’s natural slipperiness matched by her greater strength. “I won’t let you interfere with my brother’s hunt! Hina! Spear it now! You can do it!” 

Her brother’s expression, hidden as it was by his long, lanky hair, flashed through surprise, gratitude and determination, before he turned to face the beast. Drawing back his arm and the harpoon he was holding, he let out a roar and— 

Flinched at the last moment. Even Alibaba, watching this entire mad sequence with muted disbelief, could see it. 

Just before letting the harpoon fly, the giant man wavered. Although the weapon still shot through the air with devastating force, it was enough to throw off his aim. The tip of the harpoon clanged against the rampaging unicorn’s thick scales and only the tip managed to wedge into a small gap between. The beast shrieked, more angry than wounded, and swung its head toward them. 

There was a crash of breaking wood, but Alibaba didn’t have time to care about that as the ship tipped completely onto its side. All four of them were sent flying off the deck and into the icy waters below. 

That was fine for the brother-sister pair in Imuchakk colors, since they had apparently swum after the monster in the first place. And Sinbad managed to somehow flip himself over midair to land on a floating piece of ice. But Alibaba... He could swim, he’d grown up in Balbadd, where the sea or a canal was never far. 

But the water here was so very cold. It went through him like a shock the moment he went in, paralyzing his limbs and his lungs. Something that he thought might be Amon protested deep in his chest. He couldn’t fight the waves from the rampaging unicorn’s thrashing tail, which pulled him deeper under the scattered ice. 

On the surface, Sinbad glanced around, sensing that something wasn’t right. Overturned ship, furious monster, giant siblings popping up between the waves... 

“Alibaba!” he called out. “Alibaba, are you okay?” 

“I’ll get him!” the girl promised, easily guessing who he was looking for. Without waiting for a response, she ducked back under the dark, cold water. 

She just wanted to help her brother finish his hunt, not get an innocent bystander hurt. 

Originally, Sinbad had just been playing around with them. While catching the biggest fish he’d ever seen sounded very exciting, he had been willing to concede the actual catch to them — as long as they had a fun chase first. 

Now, fun was no longer his top concern. 

The girl and Alibaba still hadn’t surfaced. They might not be able to, with the rampaging unicorn still running wild. Narrowing his eyes, Sinbad raised his sword. 

“Baal!” he called out, his voice ringing out with a fierceness that surprised even him. The sword hummed in his hand, and a warmth spread down his arm as thunder cracked through the air. 

It was over in a flash. 

Water exploded up and out in a geyser, soaking what parts of Sinbad had remained dry. There was another splash as the rampaging unicorn’s body toppled into the sea, bobbing up and down on the surface. Slowly, the remaining waves began to calm. 

Waiting a moment to make sure the monster had stopped for good, Sinbad lowered his sword. It had changed shape, from a curved blade to a straight double-sided one, with serpents coiling around the hilt. Blue scales ran up his forearm, thickening into armor like a gauntlet. It didn’t fade even though the magic strike was over and felt stable in a way his previous attempts hadn’t. 

However, Sinbad didn’t waste time congratulating himself on finally mastering ‘weapon equip’. Nearby, the girl had finally resurfaced, dragging a familiar blond head up after her. 

“Alibaba! Are you okay?” Sinbad called out, jumping nimbly between floating ice toward them. 

“I think he’s okay, just get him out of the water...” the girl started to say. As she caught sight of the sea monster’s lifeless body, harpoon still sticking out of its side, her eyebrows shot up. “What happened to the rampaging unicorn? Brother, did you finally take it down?” 

Her voice finally made her brother snap out of his stupor, staring at the monster. He swallowed heavily. “I....” 

“Forget about that now,” Sinbad said sharply, reaching out impatiently to take Alibaba from her and pull him onto the ice. “Help us flip the ship back over.” His tone did not leave room for argument. 

Alibaba coughed and jerked, coming back to himself. “‘M... fine...” he insisted. He wasn’t shivering, which was probably a bad sign. 

“Can you use Amon to warm up?” Sinbad asked. 

Alibaba didn’t respond, probably not knowing the answer either. With a frown, he fumbled for his dagger’s hilt and concentrated for a moment, completely still. At this proximity, Sinbad could feel the faint hum of sorts that came from the power moving across his body. There was a wave of heat as well, along with steam as his clothing was quickly dried by Amon’s magic. 

“So you can use a djinn for things like that too, how convenient,” he noted, patting Alibaba on the back. 

“Urgh,” his companion groaned, slumping over. “Now I’m lightheaded...” 

Right. Calling a djinn’s power was supposed to take energy. It was just that Sinbad had never felt anywhere close to his limit, so he tended to forget about that. “Better than freezing, right?” he said instead. “Too bad you can’t keep yourself warm like that.” 

Alibaba’s grumbling reply was drowned out by another large splash, as the pair of giant siblings righted their small ship. 

“Hey, sorry for the trouble,” the girl said sheepishly, swimming over to their floating ice island. “We were just trying to finish my brother’s hunt, so he can finally become a true warrior. We didn’t mean to cause trouble for you.” Her brother trailed after her, silent. 

Now that the trouble had passed, Sinbad’s mood lifted and he smiled at the pair. “It’s alright. It’s worth it to meet such a beautiful girl,” he said, reaching out to take hold of her hand. “My name is Sinbad. I’m a traveler. And you, beautiful miss?” 

The girl looked at him blankly. “I’m Pipirika,” she said without any change in her tone — completely uncharmed! “And you?” 

“I’m, hehe, Alibaba,” Sinbad’s traitor of a companion managed between snickers. When Sinbad shot him an annoyed look, Alibaba only waggled his eyebrows in amusement at seeing him strike out so completely. 

“And this is my brother,” Pipirika went on, their byplay going over her head. “He’s Hina... but now that he’s hunted a rampaging unicorn, he’ll have an adult name as soon as we get back home!” 

He could feel the ‘flow’ around them both, coming together. 

This was an important opportunity, a way to advance toward his purpose. Sinbad had always been able to tell things like that — where to turn his ship in the sea, which storms would bring more fish into his net and where, which people would give him a warm meal and a helping hand. It had been strongest around Yunan, and it had been around that guy, Drakon, too sometimes. It had always been a reliable guide to his choices, always at the back of his mind. 

The only time he hadn’t been able to hear anything was about Alibaba, who was clearly a special person and yet felt like a strange empty spot in Sinbad’s senses sometimes. 

But this opportunity in front of him... 

“Your home, is that Imuchakk?” Sinbad asked, smiling. 

“That’s right! Our father is one of the patriarchs,” Pipirika boasted. 

Perfect. As if the will of fate itself. 

~.~ 

“We do not welcome outsiders,” the patriarch declared in his grave, booming way. Although this was not directed at him, Hina cringed reflexively. 

Pipirika, however, just puffed up and stuck out her bottom lip, peering up at their father through furrowed brows. “They got caught up in Brother’s hunt,” she protested. “And it’s almost night. If we send them out onto the ice, are they really going to be okay?” 

She glanced pointedly at the pair waiting behind them on the village dock. The blond one who had gone into the water, Alibaba, shivered miserably, but even the sorcerer, Sinbad, looked obviously bothered by the cold. They were just weak outsiders, Pipirika implied very clearly. An Imuchakk wouldn’t care about spending a night out, but them? They might not welcome people from other lands, but they were not callously indifferent either, especially when it was their responsibility. 

Their father harrumphed and pointedly looked away. It was as good as approval. 

Pipirika whirled around with a smile. “Hurry, let’s go!” she called out. “You guys are lucky, you’ll get to see our Maharagan festival for honoring a new warrior of the tribe! It’s a great occasion.” 

Hina tensed, and then all but jumped as their father stepped toward him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve finally joined our ranks as a warrior. I am glad, my son,” the patriarch said. 

There was no reply he could give to that. His throat closed, and he couldn’t even nod. 

Trailing the small group into the village, Hina finally gathered up his courage once they reached their house and the two visitors hurried inside. “Hey, Pipirika…” he started. “Is this… is this really okay? You can tell, right? I didn’t really…” 

Even if she hadn’t seen the outsider’s sorcery, even if she didn’t follow the warrior’s path, she had to know that his harpoon hadn’t been what killed the rampaging unicorn. It wasn’t really his catch — not that Hina had any right to blame that boy, Sinbad, for having power and using it to protect himself and his friend. 

His sister bit her lip, fiddling with her tunic for a moment. 

But she wasn’t a coward like him. That was why she had already completed her adulthood trial, despite being so much younger. Firming her resolve, she turned to him and said, “Brother, you have to hold your head up and talk proudly now. You’re finally going to be a warrior and propose to her properly. This is what you’ve been fighting for all this time. I know how hard you’ve worked and how far you’ve come. So let’s be proud of that, okay?” 

Was it okay? 

They were lying — to the village, to their father, to… to that person… 

The preparations for the festival went by in a haze of uncertainty. Every congratulatory remark and friendly pat on the back felt like another stone weight added onto him. He could barely focus as the villagers quickly and efficiently diced up the rampaging unicorn they had hauled back, dividing it into its many useful parts — meat, bones, skin, everything had a purpose for the Imuchakk. They knew this beast inside and out. So surely they would notice that it had been fried by lightning, not properly run through? 

But no one said anything, no matter how much Hina braced himself. 

Evening fell, and the village was lit up by roaring bonfires, excited chatter and drumming music filling the air. The two guests, now bundled up in Imuchakk furs but easily distinguishable by their short, slight builds, were mingling with the villagers. Well, Sinbad was mingling. Alibaba was trying to find out how close to a fire he could go without getting burned. The answer was ‘closer than Hina would have thought’. 

“How did you know?” the patriarch asked in surprise to something Sinbad said, having brazenly approached him regardless of unwelcoming looks and even more unwelcoming demeanor. “A strange building did appear near the northern waterfall recently. I have been gathering our best warriors to investigate.” 

“Don’t go in,” Sinbad said, so seriously even the patriarch listened. “That place is a dungeon. A building like that appeared near my homeland, Partevia. Ten thousand soldiers died trying to conquer it.”

Their father stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I’ve heard about this,” he said, and a few of the villagers listening nodded in agreement. “But in the end, that dungeon was conquered by one boy, wasn’t it? And his name was…” The patriarch’s eyes widened, bushy eyebrows rising, as he finally recalled. 

Sinbad smirked and drew his sword out a few fingers’ width. It glowed for a moment, before he slipped it back into the scabbard. “This is the power I received from the djinn inside the dungeon, the power of a king” he said. “But I don’t think it’s something your warriors need to risk their lives for. The Imuchakk are already very strong.” 

“Indeed,” the patriarch agreed, “we Imuchakk have no need for kings. I will warn my people to stay away.” 

Sinbad cupped his hands in a foreign gesture that nonetheless clearly conveyed his respect. 

So it hadn’t been the strange sorcery some outsiders were born with that let him defeat the rampaging unicorn. It had been power he won through a great feat. 

Horns trumpeted over the festivities, and the villagers quieted down with an excited murmur. Slowly, the patriarch mounted the main stage. “All of you know why we are gathered here tonight,” he said gravely, his voice booming through the crowd. “It’s time to welcome a new warrior into our ranks and bestow upon him the marks of adulthood — the horns and tusk of the rampaging unicorn, the greatest beast of the seas... and a new name. Come forth to receive them, warrior!” 

Heart in his throat, Hina climbed the steps up. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but for the first time in longer than he could remember, they weren’t looking down on him. They were happy and full of expectation. 

It was wonderful. But also terrible too. 

“Warrior,” his father greeted him with pride that he almost couldn’t recognize, “your name is Hinahoho.” 

The village erupted in deafening cheers, as Hinahoho bowed his head and reached out to accept the horns and headband his father held out. He couldn’t believe his hands didn’t tremble. 

He walked off the stage in a daze. 

“Brother, Brother Hinahoho! You did it!” Pipirika crashed into him the moment he stepped off the stage, her arms closing tightly around his waist. “You’re a warrior now! And you can propose to her, just like you’ve been planning!” 

She laughed, managing to momentarily lift him off his feet and spin him around. 

Propose to Rurumu... 

He tried to imagine going to meet her. It had been something he repeated over and over to himself while struggling with the rampaging unicorn year after year. Being finally able to stand face to face with her, as equals and fellow warriors of the tribes, sharing a happy smile full of promise, even holding his head up in front of the high chief. But now, that image... 

He couldn’t redo the hunt. He just couldn’t say that he had failed again, that he wasn’t a warrior yet. He didn’t have the strength to feel everyone’s disappointment and scorn. 

And yet, he couldn’t go on like this either. 

His gaze drifted toward the outsiders, holding a flickering light of desperation. 

~.~ 

“So,” Sinbad said, propping his head up with one hand as he turned toward the lump of blankets Alibaba had rolled himself into. 

The bedding Pipirika laid out for them was side by side on the floor, and Sinbad had been willing to share body heat out of pragmatism, but Alibaba had instead cocooned himself. It was a little ridiculous, in Sinbad’s opinion. It wasn’t that bad, now that they were inside and properly covered. 

Reluctantly, the lump wiggled, and a stubborn tuft of golden hair appeared at the top. After a little more squirming, a pair of eyes emerged as well, along with the tip of a red nose. 

“So?” came Alibaba’s muffled reply. 

“So, are you going to the dungeon?” Sinbad clarified, unbothered. “You said you wanted to check something, right?” 

What he could see of Alibaba withdrew. There was more wiggling, until the blanket cocoon slowly unfurled and his companion emerged properly, rolling onto his side to face Sinbad. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something. 

“I do need to go,” Alibaba said slowly. His lips twitched. “But I’m scared.” 

“But you already...” Sinbad trailed off, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

“I only survived Amon thanks to Aladdin,” Alibaba said frankly. “I don’t think I would’ve even had the courage to go in if he hadn’t been there.” Laughing weakly, he shook his head. “Not just in the dungeon. I would’ve died out in the desert without him. I’m really lucky I met him.” 

He sighed. Pulling out his dagger from under the covers, he tilted it so the faint light caught on the eight point star marking over the sheath. “I have Amon now, but I still... It’s just like before. I would go up to the gate, but I never had the courage to step through. I’m really... such a coward.” Groaning, he buried his face in his borrowed pillow.

“Heh.” With a chuckle, Sinbad dropped his head down as well. “Don’t worry,” he declared. “I’m going too. So just follow me, and I’ll make sure we make it through. I know for sure I won’t die.” 

Alibaba looked at him with wide eyes, as if only now remembering that Sinbad had come with him all this way for a reason. “Oh, right,” he said. “That’s true.” 

And that was all. Without saying anything else, he rolled himself back into a shapeless lump with only the top of his head visible. Even Sinbad, who was used to inspiring great faith in others, felt it was a little off. He stared at the golden cowlick peeking out from the lump for a moment, his lips twitching. But in the end, he also gave up and closed his eyes. 

If they were going to tackle a dungeon in the morning, they would need their rest. 

…Except that… 

“Achoo!” 

“Achoo!” 

“Ach—!” 

“Okay, enough!” Sinbad burst out, finally unable to endure after half a night of sneezing. Sitting up, he tossed his blanket over Alibaba’s pile, then stubbornly pried the cocoon open enough to wiggle inside. “We’re sharing body heat,” he said with no allowance for compromise when Alibaba tried to protest something about his cold feet. “Just go to sleep already. It’s not even that bad...” 

Unnoticed by either, a small figure watched from the shadows. 

He had been planning to attack once they were asleep, but now even the chief from Sham Lash couldn’t be sure of hitting his target in the bundle of blankets they’d rolled themselves into. And regardless of which one he took out, the other was someone with an unknown power from inside a dungeon. 

Two dungeon capturers... 

Making a quick decision, Ja’far slipped away. The court magician would want to know about this. 

~.~ 


	5. Valefor I

~.~

**Chapter 4: Valefor I**

It was late morning by the time Sinbad forced Alibaba out of bed. “It’s not going to get warmer,” he said flatly. “Do you want to go or not?” 

The answer was ‘no’, but Alibaba knew that was not possible. Not only was going to a dungeon one of his few clues to getting back to his own time, dimension, whatever, but this was also the second dungeon Sinbad was supposed to conquer. Backing out was not an option. 

The previous night’s festivities had already been cleaned up, and life in the Imuchakk village was continuing along with a spirit that seemed characteristic of its powerful people. Both of them stared with interest as they passed a market full of colorful stalls, each one sporting something mysterious and fascinating. Despite their supposed policy of rejecting outsiders, many villagers greeted them cheerfully as they passed. 

Pipirika was among that number. “You’re heading out already? That’s too bad,” she said, after they thanked her for letting them spend the night. “You can’t even stay to say goodbye? Father is busy, and Brother went off somewhere early this morning — maybe he’s gone to see Sis Rurumu!” 

“Oh, she’s that number one beauty in Imuchakk, isn’t she?” Sinbad said with interest. “It’s too bad we can’t stay to meet her.”

Remembering another ‘number one’ he had encountered, Alibaba fought down a shudder. Or maybe that was just more shivering. 

The steep hike to the northern waterfall, where Valefor’s dungeon had appeared, helped warm him up a little. His breath puffed out in large clouds of white steam before quickly dispersing in the cold, clear air. The feeling, taste and smell of it was very different from both Balbadd’s ocean air and from the arid desert, sharp and fresh and somehow bright. Despite the cold, the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the ice and untouched snow around the path. The only sound was the crunch of their footsteps and the slowly nearing roar of the waterfall. 

As they finally reached the top of the cliff, Sinbad paused to take in the sight. “There it is,” he said, “the dungeon.” 

Valefor’s dungeon sat down below, on a bluff that split the wide river into two just before it went over the edge. A fresh layer of white covered triangular roofs, making the pale and blue stone building appear almost a natural part of the landscape it had suddenly appeared in. 

Sinbad rubbed his chin. “I think Baal’s was a little more impressive,” he said. 

Baal’s dungeon had been a great tower rising out of the sea. Amon’s too. Compared to that, Valefor’s even rows of pillars were not quite as immediately awe-inspiring. 

Alibaba rolled his eyes. “It’ll be more ‘impressive’ inside,” he said with certainty. “And I hope the djinn didn’t hear you…” The last thing they needed was Valefor in a snit over a perceived insult. 

Realizing the same thing, Sinbad exchanged a look with him. “I’m sure it’s  _ very _ impressive,” he said, raising his voice and with emphasis. “I can’t  _ wait _ to see what it’s like.” 

But no matter how different the building looked, the entrance looked the same. The gate between worlds shimmered, ready to draw in anyone who dared to touch it. Staring at it fixedly, Alibaba swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. Just like he’d told Sinbad, he had climbed the steps up to Amon’s entrance many times, only to stop just out of reach and hesitate, and finally convince himself to back away, to wait for another day. 

And even with Aladdin, they hadn’t exactly meant to go in. They had very literally fallen into Amon’s dungeon by accident. 

Gulping again, Alibaba steeled his nerves and raised his foot. One more step. He’d take it this time— 

“Wait.” Clapping a hand on his shoulder, Sinbad pulled him back. “Isn’t there something weird about this? Look.” He pointed to the stone floor in front of the gateway. It was slightly slushy with clumps of flattened snow and dirt. Ignoring his blank look, Sinbad frowned. “Someone came through here before us. Those are footprints. Until now, I thought the tracks were made by whoever found this place and explored it. But it sounds like none of the Imuchakk people went in. So why would the tracks lead straight through the gate?” 

“You think someone went in ahead of us? But the patriarch said he wouldn’t send anyone,” Alibaba said. “And there aren’t any outsiders in Imuchakk.” 

Sinbad shrugged. He could read the flow of destiny, not foretell the future. 

“Forget it. If we find them, we can help them out, but there’s nothing we can do otherwise,” Alibaba sighed. His brow furrowed as something occurred to him, and he paused, mid-step toward the gate. “I’ll go first. If… If we get separated, don’t worry about it. Just head for the djinn.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he rushed into the gate. It swallowed him with a shining ripple and quickly returned to its original appearance. 

Sinbad stared after him with a strange expression. “I’m the one who’s supposed to lead,” he pointed out to no one. “And why didn’t we just hold hands to avoid getting separated?” 

There was no answer. Huffing, he stepped through the gate as well. 

~.~ 

They did not get separated, it turned out. When the bright glow of the light tunnel faded away, Sinbad found himself in a cave full of crystal or maybe ice — and Alibaba nearby studying one sharp, sparkling formation with interest. 

“Hey,” Sinbad greeted casually. “Anything trying to kill you yet?” 

“Not so far.” Alibaba’s response was dry and a little distracted. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Do you think I could sell this? It’s glowing, that could be really useful. There was this really neat glowing moss in Amon’s dungeon too, but I didn’t get the chance to take any with me…” 

“Depends on whether it’ll melt if you take it out,” Sinbad said. “Also, whether you want to be carrying it around while we’re running from monsters.” 

“That’s a no,” Alibaba judged, finally pulling his attention away from the crystal-ice. 

He followed obediently when Sinbad strode off down the glimmering ice tunnel. It really was quite marvelous, a kind of scenery that couldn’t be found in the real world, and Sinbad found himself starting to grin with excitement. Since the circumstances were less dire than previously, he could finally enjoy the sense of adventure and discovery a little more. 

Going new places, seeing so many new things — this was what he’d dreamed of ever since he first heard Darius’s stories. 

There was a ripple, not within sight but in that other sense. 

Sinbad came to an abrupt stop, digging in his heels as Alibaba all but crashed into him. 

“What is it? A monster?” his companion wondered, hand already on the hilt of his dagger. 

Slowly, Sinbad tilted his head until he found the source of his prickly unease. It was almost unnoticeable among the sparkling ice pillars. Unsheathing his sword, Sinbad swung it at the empty air in front of him — and the thin wire stretched at almost precisely neck height snapped apart with a twang. 

It had been taut, and when the two halves whipped back across the crystals on either side, the seemingly solid formations cracked sharply. 

“It’s a trap,” Sinbad noted. 

“Is it from the dungeon, or...?” Or from the people who had gone before them. Based on their previous dungeon experiences, that felt more likely. “But why?” Alibaba frowned. “What’s the point? If you’re heading into a dungeon, you want to finish it and quickly. You wouldn’t waste time doubling back. Why bother setting traps for someone who might or might not follow? Especially since no one even knows if there’s only one entrance to begin with.” 

“I suppose it makes sense if you’re sure someone is going to be following right behind you,” Sinbad said. In fact, he felt certain of this. “Whoever went in is expecting us. They’re probably waiting up ahead.” He nodded to himself. “Stay behind me.” 

There were more traps along the path ahead, but Sinbad — and Alibaba carefully copying his movements — avoided them with ease. As they continued to travel, more signs of someone else’s passing appeared as well — crushed remains of what looked like butterflies, deep gouges in the stone and ice. The monsters and the dungeon’s own tricks had been cleared out, leaving a smooth if increasingly tense journey for them. 

Something nudged at the back of Sinbad’s mind. All the traps were very well laid and carefully concealed, with finesse and skill. This was done by someone with great ability. But, by comparison, the monster remains and the damage to the surroundings spoke of more strength than skill. 

Was it really all done by the same person? Or even the same group? 

However, there was no time to think about it too deeply. Up ahead, the tunnel opened up — the perfect place for an ambush. 

Sharing a quick look with Alibaba, Sinbad silently drew his sword and let Baal’s power crawl up his arm. Then, he sprang forward, out into the brightly lit cavern beyond. 

His instincts immediately screamed, and he twisted in midair to shoot off a blast of lightning that swept aside a flurry of small, sharp darts. A bulky shape charged at him, but Sinbad managed to twist and vault over it one-handed, and with a swing of Baal’s sword, deflected another attack. 

One, two... three and four opponents. 

And among them, a familiar face. 

“Long time no see, Drakon!” Sinbad called out, landing past the ambush team and immediately rolling into a ready stance, Baal’s sword in front of him. “Couldn’t get enough of adventuring in a dungeon, huh? Or was it me you couldn’t get enough of?” 

The young soldier spluttered, still far too stiff but also far more pale and drawn than Sinbad remembered, even after the shock of losing his men to Baal’s dragons. There was a strange device in his hand, which he brandished threateningly toward Sinbad. 

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Sinbad, hand over the djinn’s power! This is what you should do as a Partevian!” 

“I won’t be a Partevian for long! I’m going to create my own kingdom!” Sinbad shot back. He kept a careless smile on his face, even as he noted that, of the other three, only one focused on him. The remaining two, a thin man and a very stocky one, focused on the tunnel entrance. 

In other words, they were preparing to face Alibaba. They knew that Sinbad wasn’t alone. 

That’s not something they would have known from Drakon’s account of Baal’s dungeon, or even from questioning the Tison villagers. After all, there was no reason to assume that Sinbad and Alibaba would travel together after leaving. 

They had been followed and observed. That meant they most likely also knew about Amon… 

Knowing this didn’t help much. There was no time to change their strategy, as Alibaba had already rushed out of the tunnel as well. 

Unlike Sinbad, he didn’t immediately use his Weapon Equip. Sidestepping a pair of silver darts, he neatly sliced the cords attached to them, then jumped over the large man’s tackle and, planting both feet onto his face, vaulted off. He landed nimbly and ready to continue, one arm behind his back and dagger in upright salute. 

All of it looked extremely coordinated and effortless. When he moved like this, it was almost as if Alibaba too could read the flow — the flow of the battle. 

He couldn’t, of course. But that made it all the more impressive. 

“Think you’ve got time to be worrying about your friend?” the third of the new faces yelled, attacking Sinbad with overflowing bloodlust. Well, not that their faces were visible. But this one was obviously a kid, several years younger than even Sinbad. 

“I always have time for my friends,” Sinbad said magnanimously. “You’ll find being my friend is quite rewarding! What do you think? How about giving it a try?” 

The child assassin hissed at him, like a small, very furious animal. His ruthless attacks sped up, becoming a blur of small fists, glinting darts and red cords. But the sheer density of his killing intent made it entirely too easy to read, and Sinbad easily kept ahead of him, even while keeping an eye on Drakon, watching from the sidelines. As for the other two, Alibaba should be more than able to handle them. This battle wasn’t a breeze, but it seemed they had the upper hand. 

He should have known better than to think that. A sudden shiver went down his spine. 

At the same time, Alibaba called out, “Sinbad, look out! Amol Saiqa!” 

“Thalg Al-Salos!” 

Sinbad’s eyes widened as another voice — a woman, a fifth person he had missed — rang out. 

A rain of ice shards, each as long as a throwing lance and several times thicker, fell toward him. There wasn’t enough room to slip between them, and not enough time to get completely clear of the spell’s wide range. 

However, a wave of fire intercepted the ice in midair, melting it away. 

“How interesting,” the woman said, lowering her staff and stepping forward. Now that she moved, Sinbad could tell she had been using the dungeon to somehow hide her presence. He wouldn’t lose track of her again. “To think there would already be another dungeon conqueror…” she went on. “Just who are you? And where did you come from?” 

“Wouldn’t it be polite to give your own name first, madame?” Alibaba shot back gamely. 

The woman dipped her head, her expression hidden by her veil. “I am Falan, Partevia’s court magician,” she said. “It is always an honor to make the acquaintance of a king vessel.” 

“The pleasure,” Sinbad said, surreptitiously gathering Baal’s power, “is all ours!” 

His attack flashed toward the child assassin and Drakon, the former somehow managing to leap out of the way, while the latter was flung backwards. A dart shot out, and a red cord wrapped around Sinbad’s arm, yanking him off balance. He avoided a stab and rolled back to his feet. 

Around him, the battle had resumed. 

And it was… not in their favor. The difference was small, but it built up as the two groups continued to trade attacks back and forth. The original four, they could have handled, as Sinbad had first judged, but the addition of the magician Falan tilted the odds in the other direction. 

She remained out of range for their attacks and acted rarely, but her rare spells were perfectly timed to make him and Alibaba stumble and lose their rhythm. And unfortunately it seemed their opponents had figured out the most obvious weakness of a djinn's power — that it was useless without the metal vessel. The child assassin's nimble hands and entangling cords were constantly grabbing at Sinbad's sword, and he could see Alibaba having the same issue in the glimpses he caught of the other half of the battle. 

They needed to get out of there, Sinbad thought. 

“Alibaba!” he hollered, gathering as much power as he could. “Just like in training!” 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Drakon yelled, firing his strange device. 

Sinbad sidestepped it, but the small delay was enough for Alibaba to launch his own attack — just as Sinbad had planned. There was no finesse or particular direction to it, only an overpowering wall of flames like their first attempts at summoning a djinn’s power on Balbadd’s outskirts. 

“Baal!” Sinbad called out his own djinn, matching Alibaba’s flames with lightning. 

The combined explosion of their two magics cleared the battlefield, and Sinbad didn’t hesitate to dart out and grab Alibaba’s hand, dragging him into a dead sprint away. 

“That’s not going to keep them down for long!” Alibaba warned, looking over his shoulder while Sinbad focused on leading the way. 

“I know, I have a plan!” Sinbad assured him. 

Although, Alibaba was no going to like this plan. 

“Just trust me, and jump!” 

They were headed straight for a cliff. “No way!” Alibaba protested immediately. “No! Sinbad, there’s a waterfall! It’s cold! I don’t want to!”

However, he didn’t dig in his heels or do anything more than tug ineffectually at Sinbad’s grip. The next moment, before the Partevians could catch up, they were soaring over the edge. Alibaba screamed all the way down. 

They hit the river at the bottom with a towering splash. The water was indeed cold, but not as much so as outside the dungeon, and the current was not unmanageable. Regaining his bearings quickly, Sinbad tugged Alibaba along. 

No one followed them in, he noted. That was... strange. They didn’t seem like the type to give up easily — especially not Drakon, not with the stubborn perseverance he’d shown in front of Baal. 

He wasn’t even taking a few shots at them...? 

“Thalg Hajar!” Overhead, the magician’s voice rang out — and ice began to spread rapidly down the river, gaining on them in jagged spears. 

Sinbad was a good swimmer, and Alibaba was gamely keeping up, but they couldn’t outrun it. He cursed mentally and frantically searched for that glimmer of light that meant a way forward, but he couldn’t see it. The water felt dark, the ice already covering the surface over their heads. Sinbad raised Baal’s sword, halfway hoping the djinn’s magic would be able to help somehow but feeling the lack of certainty in this like a pit beneath his feet. 

Was this really— 

The hand he was holding gripped him tightly, and a sudden heat erupted from beside Sinbad. If not for Alibaba’s hold on him, Sinbad would have been blown away, just like the ice. As it was, he couldn’t even turn his head against the powerful current and see what exactly it was Alibaba was doing. It didn’t seem like Amon’s usual attacks. And it didn’t feel very stable either. 

With a sharp yank, he found himself dragged along in a confusing, swirling vortex of water and heat. He couldn’t tell how far they managed to get before the power coming off Alibaba faltered and then flickered out like a candle in the wind. 

Just before, he had caught a glimpse of white and burning orange and red. 

The cold river water, no longer kept at bay, crashed over both of them, and everything faded to black. 

~.~ 

On the cliff overhead and far behind, Drakon gingerly lowered the arm he’d raised to shield his face against the sudden explosion of fire and steam from the river crevice. He and Sham Lash assassins had been driven back several steps, and it hadn’t even been an attack, he didn’t think. 

“Is that... also a djinn’s power?” he wondered. 

“Only a fraction of it,” the court magician, Falan, said tonelessly. Her thick lashes had parted to show a glimmer of cold green, still looking down at the river which had quickly resumed its course. “To think one of them has this much control over it already. How could we have missed a dungeon appearing...?” 

“We must claim that power for Partevia before it becomes too much to control,” Drakon decided. 

Shaking away her thoughts, Falan nodded. “Indeed. But as you are, you are no longer enough to overcome two dungeon conquerors together,” she said. “Here. Take this.” 

She held up her hand. In her palm, several small, black things squirmed. 

~.~

When Sinbad came to, he knew that things had worked out for them. Jumping down that cliff had been the right choice, in the end. Opening his eyes, he could see the why and how — the towering, bulky figure of an Imuchakk man, keeping watch nearby. Just as he’d thought near the entrance, there had been two groups coming in ahead of them. 

It wasn’t just any Imuchakk either. It was Hinahoho. 

“Did you pull us out?” Sinbad asked, sitting up and shaking out his still damp limbs. “Thanks! But what are you doing in here?” 

Hinahoho jumped, his grip tightening on the red unicorn horn that had been made into a spear. “I… I just… “ he mumbled. “I wanted to prove my strength.” 

Propping his head up with one hand, Sinbad waited. 

“I… couldn’t beat the rampaging unicorn,” Hinahoho went on after a long moment. He reached up, rubbing at his long bangs and forehead — absent of the thick blue headband he had received the night before. “I can’t call myself a warrior like this. But I thought, if I could beat a dungeon like you did, I could hold my head up and…” 

“You don’t hold back. Between a dungeon and a rampaging unicorn, there isn’t really a comparison,” Sinbad said. “If you made it this far, I’d say you deserve to call yourself a warrior.” Making it to the end, much less getting out, was a different matter. That was not something a warrior could accomplish — only a king. 

But Hinahoho shook his head. “I don’t! I’m just… so scared. I don’t even know how I made it this far. How can you be so calm? Why did you even go in here, when you know what it’s like? You already have so much power, so why…” 

Why did he go into Valefor’s dungeon? 

Once you entered, there was only one way out, so the only answer was that Sinbad had decided to take Valefor’s power for himself. 

Why did he decide that, when he already had the power of a king? 

Maybe it was just greed. But maybe it was also that Alibaba had wanted to go in. Alibaba who had known where Valefor would be before they set out, well ahead of the dungeon actually appearing. Sinbad couldn’t read a single thing from him, but there had to be a reason they met. It couldn’t be anything except destiny. 

Yes, it was destiny. That’s why he was a special person. 

“Because I can see the flow of the future,” Sinbad said, smiling confidently. “I know I will succeed. I will survive, I will conquer this dungeon, and I will achieve my dream. It’s my destiny.” 

Hinahoho’s eyes widened, and Sinbad could tell his heart had been moved. Convincing others to believe in him was something Sinbad had always been good at. 

Just one more push. 

“It’s normal to be scared. Even having the power of djinn doesn’t change whether you’re afraid or not,” he added. After all, Alibaba had said the same thing — that he was afraid to go alone, even having Amon’s power. “But that’s alright. All you need to do is follow me, and we’ll conquer this dungeon!” 

“Conquer the dungeon…” 

Slowly, Hinahoho dipped his head. Something almost invisible shifted in his entire bearing, as his resolve solidified. 

“Ready to go?” Sinbad said. 

“Yeah,” Hinahoho said, firmly. “I’ve gone a bit further, but I couldn’t figure out what to do. I’ll show you the way.” 

But before following him, there was something Sinbad needed to do. Reaching over, he was about to shake Alibaba’s shoulder, only to realize that he was already awake. Had been for a while, staring blankly up at the ceiling — as he waited for their talk to end. 

Caught unexpectedly flatfooted, Sinbad cleared his throat. “I told you I had a plan,” he blurted out. 

“It was a terrible plan,” Alibaba shot back. “I’m not sure I can follow your kind of plans anymore.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Sinbad assured him. 

Alibaba hummed in acknowledgement, as they slowly followed after Hinahoho. “Yeah, we will,” he agreed. “But you know… I’m not sure that’s what he needed to hear.” 

Sinbad glanced at him in surprise, but there was no time to ask what he meant, as they caught up to Hinahoho and entered the next area. The next trial awaited. 

~.~ 


	6. Valefor II

~.~

**Chapter 5: Valefor II**

Countless doors dotted the cliff walls rising overhead, twisting stone paths leading to each one. And in the center — a stone tablet, with a scant three lines of dot and cone writing. 

All but one of the doors were closed. Hinahoho shook his head. “I already tried that one,” he said. “But there’s nothing there. That’s why I doubled back and found you two.” He hesitated, glancing at Sinbad for guidance. “Did I miss anything…?” 

“I don’t think so,” Sinbad said. “It doesn’t feel like the right way to go.” 

That intuition of his was really something. 

“It’s not,” Alibaba confirmed, squinting at the upright tablet for a moment. “It says, ‘Cut the light and surround me in shadow. Then, the path to truth will open.’” 

“Then we need to make our shadows cover this thing,” Sinbad said. “Split up and stand in front of those glowing rocks, that should stretch our shadows out.”

As they moved to do just that, Hinahoho glanced at Alibaba curiously. “You can read that?” he asked. “It’s not like any writing I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s not normal writing?” Sinbad, who still couldn’t read much to begin with, wondered. 

“No, it’s Tran,” Alibaba said. “It’s an ancient script. There was some in Amon’s dungeon too. Maybe the ones who made the dungeons used it.” The ones who had lived in the Necropolis in the center and left behind all that treasure. Alibaba couldn’t help wondering who they had been. If dungeons were in another dimension entirely, had they even been human? 

As the tablet had said, once it was covered by their shadows, another doorway opened with a grating rumble. 

“Let’s move quickly, those guys will catch up if we hang around too long,” Sinbad said. He smirked suddenly. “Although, I think we can take them, now that we have one more person.” 

He said it casually while mentally tallying up their odds, but Alibaba could see the way Hinahoho’s ears perked up and he snuck a look at Sinbad, as if not quite daring to believe it. Alibaba had to bite back an instinctive reassurance — that they would have been a pair of drowned rats without him, that he was very strong, if he just believed in himself more, that they definitely appreciated his help and that having him on their side would tip the scales in their favor, if they had to clash with the Partevian group again. 

Because that was what Alibaba would have needed to hear, in his place, which Sinbad had missed the mark on, earlier. 

Although Alibaba certainly felt more confident thanks to Sin’s complete faith in himself and his leadership, the truth was that Aladdin’s simple reassurance — ‘You are brave’ — had meant much more to him. 

But it wasn’t his place to make those reassurances. 

The Sinbad stories about Valefor had been somewhat vague, but there had definitely been mention of an Imuchakk ally who supported Sinbad through the dungeon, and Imuchakk had later become Sindria Trading Company’s first and most loyal partner. This was an important step in Sinbad’s path, and Alibaba didn’t want to risk making an even bigger mess of it. 

What if one thing led to another, and he accidentally prevented Sindria from being formed? That was an outright horrifying thought. 

Up ahead, the tunnel ended in glimmering light. Beyond was the Necropolis and, finally, the djinn’s temple. 

Alibaba heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped inside. 

Hinahoho crep along, almost tiptoeing despite his great size, but Sinbad strolled through confidently. His eyes lit up with curiosity and enthusiasm, but he remained focused on the most pressing matter. “That should be the djinn’s vessel in the center,” he said. “Let’s wake them up!” 

As soon as his fingers touched the pendant lying on a pedestal at the center of the temple, magic surged through the air. Just like in Amon’s treasury, the faded and encrusted relics shone a brilliant gold and a gargantuan figure appeared over their group. 

Valefor was a beast, with a wide jaw full of sword-like fangs and three eyes on each side. Flashing its claws, it boomed out, “My name is Valefor, the djinn of falsehood and prestige. Who among you will become King?” 

“Me!” Sinbad declared, his hand shooting up excitedly. 

About to say something else, no doubt equally dramatic and awe-inspiring, Valefor froze in surprise. This was not how the djinn envisioned things, and all six of its eyes blinked as it tried to figure out how to continue. 

“Erm... okay,” it finally said, its tone quite different. “But where are the rest of you?” 

“Drakon and them? We went on ahead,” Sinbad said. 

Valefor huffed. “I got so excited and put on an act, and you’re not even all here. How disappointing... I don’t feel motivated anymore.” Its form began to shrink down, losing its menace and majestic bearing. Curling up, it turned up its nose and refused to look at them anymore. “Forget it, we’ll start when the rest get here.” 

“Um,” Alibaba said, and immediately cringed when Valefor turned six disinterested eyes toward him. “I have something I wanted to ask you, Lord Djinn, if you could spare a moment.” 

Valefor waved one paw for him to continue. 

“It’s about the gate between worlds, and whether it could—” 

“I don’t know,” the djinn interrupted him. “I’ve got no idea how that complicated stuff works. Ugo set up the system, I just wait here for a king candidate to arrive.” 

Of all the things Alibaba had expected, that was not one of them. “But Amon seemed like he knew how to make one,” he protested. Indeed, Amon had created a gate to send them back — on which he had apparently made a mistake, leading to Alibaba’s predicament. 

“Amon’s an old guy who thinks too much,” Valefor said, unimpressed. “I’m not. Anyway, enough about that. It’s about time to get started.” 

Just as the djinn finished speaking, another voice echoed down the passage into the temple, and four figures rushed inside. “Sinbad!” Drakon yelled, already aiming his strange magic tool at them. “I won’t let you take the djinn’s power this time!” 

But before he could shoot, a giant ice crystal erupted in front of him, making him backpedal frantically to avoid crashing into it. The trio of assassins immediately scattered, each looking around with full alertness. “None of that,” Valefor tutted. “Baal might be all about fighting it out, but I don’t like violence. I’m going to be testing you another way. Come on, hurry up and get over here, so we can get started.” 

It took a moment for the Partevian group to obey, even after the ice magic dissolved as if it had never been there. They approached with obvious reluctance. 

“How come there’s only four of you? Where’s your magician?” Sinbad asked casually. “Is she hiding again?” 

Drakon’s lips thinned and he shot a glare at his rival. However, Valefor huffed impatiently and cut him off before he could answer. 

“A magician won’t work as a king vessel anyway,” the djinn said. “But don’t think I’ll let anyone interfere. I want this to be fair to everyone. The seven of you are each on your own.” 

“Wait,” the youngest assassin said suddenly. “Are you saying any of us could become king?” 

“Of course,” Valefor said. “As long as you pass my trial.” 

Alibaba nodded to himself. “Aright,” he said, stepping forward, “then I’ll excuse myself here. I’ll be sitting this one out.” 

A stunned silence, and then a chorus of questions (Sinbad, Drakon, Hinahoho) and sneers (the assassins) greeted this declaration, but Alibaba only gave them a placating wave and moved to the side, taking a seat next to the djinn’s alter. After all, he hadn’t even really wanted one djinn. What would he do with a second one? 

The reason he had come to Valefor’s dungeon was purely to attempt at getting back home. But the world gate in hadn’t done anything and Valefor didn’t know anything, so the only thing left was to see if the gate back might send him to the right place. ...But Alibaba did not have much hope on that point. 

Silently, he sighed to himself. What was he supposed to do from here? 

“Suit yourself,” Valefor said lazily. “Works better for me too. I don’t want to share with that stuffy old man. And as for the rest of you… let’s begin the trial!” As the djinn gestured with one paw, a small shape rose up out of the shadows. Yawning, it bared tiny fangs — and sneezed, dribbling a bit of snot. “It’s quite simple. You just need to catch my little buddy, Minifor, before the time runs out. And if you don’t… you’ll remain here in my dungeon forever.” 

~.~ 

Carefully concealed in the icy rukh of Valefor’s dungeon, Falan watched. 

It was a rare opportunity. Very few of their number had the chance to see any part of Solomon’s king vessel system from the inside, and any information would be very useful for their future plans. King vessels possessed not only power but a unique quality within the flow of Solomon’s rukh. Using them correctly could yield great results. 

They could also become a great hindrance, however, and that was precisely why Falan had put priority on finding out more about Sinbad, the young conqueror of Baal. How to best use him — her decision on this would determine his fate. 

What Falan and Al Thamen had not anticipated was the other one. 

How could they have missed Amon’s dungeon being raised? Who had done it? Not Scheherazade, whom they watched closely. Not the child magi Arba had claimed. Was it Yunan? He could be frustratingly elusive. Or had it been the previous third magi, the cursed woman they had spent so much energy to corner and dispose of? 

For Amon’s king to be able to use the full equip, even if only for a moment, he had to have won his metal vessel long before. To gain Amon before that woman’s death, he would have been extremely young, but if she accompanied him through the dungeon and convinced the djinn on his behalf... 

And if it had been years ago... There had been that strange incident four years prior. No, to call it an incident was not enough. 

Inexplicably, without any warning or sign, every member of their ranks had been transported into the human world, ripped away from their hidden dimension and hiding place. They had returned there quickly enough, of course, but they had never been able to find out just what had happened. Some strange fluctuation in the fabric of dimensions? Or...

Could there be a connection? 

It was too early to assume that, but it made Falan wary all the same. There were few things Al Thamen did not know, and the unknown was the greatest danger. It was for this that she remained out of sight and watched, instead of approaching Valefor, even at the risk of the djinn’s wrath. What could Solomon’s slave do to her, except banish her from her temporary form? What could even a king vessel do to her? No, what she was wary of was the potential of someone else behind Amon’s king, someone who had escaped Al Thamen’s eyes and ears. 

And the question of what purpose had made this backer finally move in the open. 

Most likely, it was... 

Falan’s hidden gaze lingered on Baal’s king, the child who shone almost blindingly in the rukh. A boy-king was not such a rare thing, but his capacity was unlike anything Falan had seen before. Was it possible he was the anomaly in the rukh from fifteen years ago? 

Unlike the Sham Lash rats, the Imuchakk beast, and Barbarossa's foolish little brother, Sinbad did not scramble in Valefor's petty game. From the way he watched them with a wry smile, she felt certain he had seen through it — that Valefor had specifically made its familiar just a little stronger and faster than any single one of them, making it impossible to catch alone. Especially when they were each throwing themselves into each other's way out of desperate greed. 

"Okay, that's enough," Sinbad called out after yet another failed round of chase. "At this rate, we really will all get stuck here. We have to work together."

"Work together? Are you kidding? You think anyone's going to trust you? Or anyone else?" Ja'far sneered. 

Sinbad spread his hands. "I have an idea," he said. "A way for everyone to have an equal chance. How about this? We'll all surround Minifor and close in from an equal distance. If we get close enough, we’ll all jump in. Who it tries to run to, who manages to get hold of it — it'll be up to chance and your own skill. But no matter what, it won't have a way out, and someone will become the king. Better than being stuck in the dungeon forever, right?" 

The others frowned and exchanged looks. But none of them protested in the face of Sinbad's confident smile. 

That was why they could only be pawns, their only purpose to be thrown away. 

“It’s a workable plan. But,” Dragul said, his lips thinning, “I can’t trust you.” 

Sinbad shrugged, unaffected. “Fine, fine. I’ll climb up and give directions instead, how about it?” 

His rukh fluttered — smug and self assured. This was all within his calculations. 

And he calculated it perfectly. When the others closed, surrounding Valefor’s familiar, and made a final lunge, confident that it could not escape, the small creature launched itself up, out of their grasp — and directly into Sinbad, who had used his position to intercept it. 

As he touched down on one of the massive chests scattered haphazardly around Valefor’s treasury, six furious gazes locked onto him. Shifting his grip on Valefor’s familiar, Sinbad quirked up one corner of his mouth. 

“You bastard! You cheated us!” Ja’far howled. “I’ll kill you!” 

Silver darts glinted between his fingers, before an absurd mass of unrefined magoi slammed down on him, pinning him in place. “No violence, no violence! How many times do I have to say it?” Valefor chided. 

“It’s alright, let him,” Sinbad said calmly. Finally releasing the familiar, he turned to Ja’far and spread his arms again, unconcerned with the bloodlust aimed at him. 

“He’ll really kill you, you know,” Valefor pointed out. 

“No, he won’t. I can’t die here,” Sinbad said. “I will live, because there is something I must do. That’s why I’m going to leave this dungeon alive. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen, even use all of you.” His eyes moved across the others, taking in each of them and cutting through to their hearts. “Because the one who years for this power the most is me. What all of you want isn’t really this power of unlimited possibilities. The only fate you want to change is your own. But I... I will change not only my fate, but yours, and everyone else’s.

“I will change the world.” 

The rukh around him sang, making Falan grimace in disgust. 

He was truly a king vessel. With just his words, he was already forcing the hearts of his opponents to turn toward him. Even if they were unwilling, they couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement. And more than that, a belief in him. That admiration and trust would swirl together to become a single thought. 

‘I want to follow this man! This is my master and my king!’ 

“N-Nonsense!” Barbarossa’s younger brother protested, far too weak to change the flow that propelled Sinbad forward. “You don’t even know anything about the world! Do you really think you can change just because you gained some power? The world isn’t so simple!” 

“I know,” Sinbad agreed with a smile. “I know I’m still lacking. Power, allies, knowledge, skill... I need more. That’s why I want all of you to join me. Become mine!” 

...Amon’s king palmed his face. 

In the end, this exceptional vessel was still just a child. 

But— 

“Pffft!” Ja’far burst out into mocking laughter. “Alright! I never thought I’d see a guy crazy enough to try recruiting the assassins after his life. You’re kind of amusing. So I’ll join you.”

—his potential was undeniable. 

“Chief!” the other assassin protested. “Are you serious? And you! Do you really mean that? How can you want people like us to be your allies?” 

“Of course I want you,” Sinbad said. “Let’s build a country that will bring everyone together, no matter what their past or origins. That’s my dream!” With just his smile, the darkened rukh around the Sham Lash trash began to lighten. They were already as good as his. 

With a few years and a little guidance, he would become a bright light that could drive back Al Thamen for a generation. Any kingdom he created would obstruct them for an age. And that, Falan would not allow. It was past time to put an end to this glowing farce. Reaching out, she activated the small gift she had left behind in their bodies. 

Those insipid smiles faltered as the three assassins suddenly found themselves choking on blood. Then, a storm of black engulfed them, and a furious roar echoed from within the cloud of dark rukh. 

~.~

Alibaba stared in mute shock at the black magic beast that had somehow appeared from the swarm of dark birds that sprang up around the assassins. At first, he was not alone in that, as even Valefor seemed taken aback. But even as the others sprang into action, readying their weapons and taking defensive positions, he couldn’t make himself move. 

Something... something was... 

_ A black blade. Blood. A monster, howling.  _

Something was pressing on his mind. Not from outside, but from within. 

He recognized this. He didn’t know why, but he did. Blindly, he hit his chest, trying to grasp Amon’s dagger and missing. Finally closing around warm metal, his fingers clenched tightly. The noise in his ears faded just slightly, but his breathing refused to slow, still fast and shallow — and he didn’t know why. 

It wasn’t the black monster’s nature. The others had already regained themselves. So why... 

“Stop!” Sinbad yelled as Drakon pointed his strange magic tool at the beast. 

But the command came too late, almost drowned out by the bang of the lightning shot. Darting forward, Sinbad managed to deflect it with Baal’s sword, which went skittering away across the treasury floor as he lost his grip on it. 

“What are you doing?!” Drakon demanded. “Can’t you tell what kind of situation this is?” 

“They’ve already become my people! And I won’t leave anyone behind! I won’t let my comrades die!” Sinbad shouted back. 

Dry, nasty laughter came from somewhere within the shadows. 

“You don’t have a choice,” the rustling voice of the court magician spoke. It was impossible to tell where she was, no matter how frantically they looked around them. Suddenly, a spike of erupted from the ground, surrounding Baal’s sword, and a female figure emerged from it. 

Falan’s eyes curved in a hidden smile, as she held Sinbad’s metal vessel in her arms. “It’s their fate to be consumed by our magic beast. And it’s your fate to perish here!” 

As if at her command — and maybe it really was — the beast lunged for Sinbad, sword-like black claws extended 

“Sinbad!!” 

Three voices rang out at the same time. Alibaba finally regained his senses enough to scramble to his feet and draw Amon’s dagger. But the one who made it to Sinbad, shoving him out of the way and into Drakon was Hinahoho. The magic beasts claws closed around his head and torso, lifting him and squeezing him painfully. 

“Hinahoho! Hang on!” Sinbad shouted, struggling to disentangle himself from Drakon. “I’ll get you out!” 

And how was he planning to do that without his metal vessel? Alibaba knew that Sinbad also carried a knife, but it trying to use it in this battle would be like poking the beast with a needle. However, judging by his expression, Sinbad was more than willing to try. 

Cursing mentally, Alibaba gathered up his magoi — and paused. 

Hinahoho was moving. Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the magic beast’s claws and, unbelievably, began to slowly and painstakingly pry them apart. 

“You...” he grounded out between clenched teeth, “are always... like this! Why?!” 

Shoving himself loose, he grabbed hold of the beast’s wrist and managed to twist it with a sickening crunch. The monster roared furiously, flinging Hinahoho away, but he landed safely, skidding back. 

“You’re small and weak! So how can you be this strong? You’re just a kid who doesn’t know anything. So how can be this determined and this sure of yourself?” Hinahoho yelled, ignoring the beast to glare at Sinbad. “Do you really think I need help more than you? You’re the one who’s running off to do something insane like changing the entire world!” 

“W-well, I...” Sinbad blinked at him. “Um...” 

“You’re really something,” Hinahoho said, his furious tone unexpectedly calming. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “I can’t help but admire you. You’re right — you are the most suited to be king.” His lips quirked up in a wry smile. “You have the strength to achieve your dreams, no matter whether anyone supports you or approves of you. Not like me...” 

After all, Hinahoho was someone who had been deeply pressured by the expectations of those around him, trying to live up to them, falling short of them. Not like Sinbad, who only looked ahead and persisted in his own path. 

Watching him, Sinbad’s eyes widened and his expression brightened, as if something clicked into place. 

“So it’s like that...” he murmured to himself. Raising his head, he stepped forward and unexpectedly took one of Hinahoho’s much larger hands. “That’s right, I’ll achieve my dream. But only if I have comrades like you at my side. Hinahoho, join me! I need your strength! To save those guys, and to change the world!” 

So he had finally figured it out. 

Without looking, Alibaba could imagine Hinahoho’s response. That was what he’d meant before — that sometimes, what people wanted to hear wasn’t that they could just depend on someone else. Hinahoho especially, as a proud Imuchakk warrior, no matter how much he doubted himself. Sometimes, what people wanted was for someone to tell them they could succeed, that they were strong. 

As expected, Sinbad was amazing. 

“Tch!” Falan clicked her tongue, even half-hidden, her expression twisting with disgust. “As if I’ll allow it—!” 

“As if you can stop them!” Alibaba countered, magoi engulfing his dagger and transforming it into a black greatsword. The wave of flames he released struck Falan before she could react. There was a crack, and shattered pieces of a doll fell to the treasure floor. Snatching up Sinbad's sword, Alibaba stared at the doll fragments with a frown. 

"That's not her real body," Valefor said grimly. 

Falan's laughter rang out again. "That's right," she said — as the flesh of the black beast's shoulder rippled and an exact replica of her form emerged from it. “The real me is far out of your reach. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, or this beast.” 

Valefor snarled, its previously lazy, soft shape returning to the fearsome wolf they had seen at first. “You think you can run wild in  _ my _ dungeon? I remember that disgusting stench of yours! I won’t let you do as you please!” 

“Wait!” Sinbad protested, moving as if to put himself between the djinn and the magic beast. “Those guys are still in that thing! I won’t let you destroy it!” 

“You can’t save them,” Falan said. Even with the veil, Alibaba could tell her lips curled into a smirk. “And what right do you think you have to interfere, slave of Solomon? You who already failed once and are now nothing more than a puppet...” 

“Shut up! How dare you bring up what you and your ilk did to Alma Torran!” Valefor roared. 

“That’s fine,” Sinbad said, cutting through their argument. “They’re our comrades, so we’ll be the ones to save them. We’ll find a way!” 

For a long moment, Valefor stared at him, a growl rumbling in its throat. 

“Fine! Fine, if you’re that sure! Prove to me that you have what it takes to be a true king vessel!” the djinn snapped finally. “You can save them if you destroy the beast’s core! Based on the flow of magoi, it should be in its chest!” 

Sinbad grinned. “I knew there’d be a way!” 

“Leave the core to me,” Hinahoho said. “The great harpoon will pierce straight through. This time I won’t miss.”

“Then I’ll—” 

“Enough!” Falan barked. The black beast slammed its fist where they had been standing, forcing them to scatter. “I won’t give you the chance! Thalg Al-Salos!” 

“Amol Saiqa!” Flames engulfed her rain of icicles, melting them before they could come near Sinbad and Hinahoho. Hefting up Baal’s sword, Alibaba threw it toward its owner. Sinbad caught it easily, shooting him a grin. 

Alibaba smiled back and made himself step away. It was hard not to interfere. In truth, although he couldn’t explain it, he felt like he could defeat the black beast on his own, matching Falan’s ice with his flames and piercing it straight through. The name of the right spell was tugging at the back of his mind. In the same way he could strangely use his metal vessel’s power to an even greater extent than Sinbad, he would be able to overcome this. 

But this wasn’t his battle. This was Sinbad’s challenge to prove himself to Valefor, to his comrades, and to his dreams. And of course, the legendary Conqueror of the Seven Seas would succeed. 

Even with Baal’s power and Hinahoho’s support, it was a struggle. Sinbad alone couldn’t counter Falan’s magic and suppress the monster long enough for Hinahoho to get a clean strike. Every time he tried, Falan would attack, interrupting them and forcing them to scatter. 

“Dammit!” Sinbad cursed as another cluster of ice spears headed toward him. 

Small blasts of lightning intercepted them in midair. “What are you doing?” Drakon scowled. “All that talk, and this is the best you can do?” 

It seemed he had become fed up with standing around passively. And that his heart had also been moved by the future king of Sindria. 

Sinbad didn’t waste the opportunity he was given. When the magic beast tried to move, he quickly attacked it with Baal’s power, keeping it pinned in place. “Hinahoho, now!” he shouted. 

“Right!” The red rampaging unicorn horn in Hinahoho’s hand glowed brightly as he channeled magoi through it. The stone cracked where he stomped down to anchor his stance, and his eyes shone with an inhuman hue. “Take... this!!” 

The spear and the powerful magoi within it ripped straight through the beast’s chest. 

~.~


	7. “Sindria”

~.~

**Chapter 6: “Sindria”**

That should have been the end of it. Silently, without even a final roar, the monster began to topple. It dissolved into a scattering of black birds, and only the bodies of the three assassins hit the ground. They appeared lifeless, and for a moment, Sinbad’s heart was in his throat. 

“Hey! You three!” he called out and cursed metally. He didn’t even know their names — yet. 

He, Hinahoho and Drakon each rushed to one of them. Sinbad easily pulled the smallest one up into his arms. Thankfully, he could see his hand twitch slightly, and his thin chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Nearby, the other two groaned as they slowly came to themselves. 

“Are you guys alright?” Sinbad asked.

“Oh, my head... What happened?” the thin one asked, slowly shaking his head. “Sinbad... you saved us?” 

“We did,” Sinbad confirmed. “You were being absorbed by a monster. Do you feel anything wrong?” 

“No, I feel a bit tired, but otherwise... I feel lighter, almost like an evil spirit was expelled from me,” he said. “Mahad, what about—” 

The invisible flow all around them... trembled. There was no other word for it, and Sinbad had never before felt anything like it. Perhaps this was what the earthquakes he’d heard about would feel like — something unnatural and so vast that it could not be escaped. 

_ ‘You think it’s over that easily? I won’t let you escape.’  _

The court magician’s voice spoke directly into his head — and the others’ too, judging by the way their eyes widened and they looked around frantically. 

_ ‘Even if you destroyed the core... I’ll just use this child directly!’  _

A black hurricane of wings sprung up without warning, swirling around Sinbad and the small body he was holding. There was no way to describe the sensation left behind where they brushed against him. Sinbad almost expected to see blood flowing down his arms from a myriad of cuts, but there was no physical mark on him. Holding the child in his arms close, he tried to shield him from the swirling black, but he could have sworn the small birds slipping by disappeared directly into his body. 

_ ‘It’s no use, this child is already almost Fallen. With such a plentiful vessel, I can restore the magic beast endlessly. It might even be possible to create a Dark Djinn, as we’ve planned...’  _

“Sin! Call Baal!” Alibaba’s voice came over the chaos. 

“BAAL!” 

Sinbad didn’t hesitate or stop to think. Twisting his grip on Baal’s sword, he slammed the blade into the ground and sent his will through it. He hoped Baal understood what to do, because Sinbad himself wasn’t at all sure. 

A black flow... cold and reversed... 

“Gah!” Lightning burst from the sword, cutting through the dark energy — and also through Sinbad, though he gritted his teeth and endured, even as his vision whited out and his ears rang deafeningly. 

Beyond the white and the noise, he could see flashes of things he didn’t recognize. 

Ah, so this kid’s name was Ja’far. 

_ ‘Hey, Ja’far! What do you mean about not having a place to go? Didn’t you already agree to become my comrade? Naturally, my home is your home now. ... Of course. I said I won’t let my comrades die, and that means you too. The stuff in the past, we’ll work it out later. ... It’s fine if you don’t trust me now. But since you agreed, you owe me the chance to prove it to you!’  _

And finally, quietly, weakly, there was a very faint sense of agreement and a small hand slipping into his. 

Sinbad grinned. He had succeeded! Subordinate acquired! 

There was a sensation like a fist driving into his head and huffing annoyance. Sinbad laughed, as the weight began to lift and his mind cleared. 

“Ow, ow, ow...” He came back to himself to aching all over, Baal’s lightning faded away around them. Struggling weakly, Ja’far pounded against his chest. 

“Stupid...” he hissed. 

“You’re insane!” Drakon agreed, running up to them with Hinahoho. “Do you want to die?!” 

“Unbelievable,” Hinahoho agreed, though he seemed to have already accepted that this was Sinbad’s way of doing things and only smirked a little down at him. 

Considering Sinbad had blindly hit the two of them with Baal’s power, that was all perhaps deserved. He grinned weakly, still wincing. But at least the cold, strange reverse flow that had blinded him was dispersing. Like this, he could feel the correct direction again, and it was once again in his favor. 

_ ‘NO!!’ _

“Enough already! Just disappear, you damn ghost!” Sinbad snapped. “Baal!” 

And, in a final flash of lightning, Falan’s voice faded away. 

~.~ 

Seeing Sinbad droop in relief and get swept up in a huddle of his worried and scolding allies, Alibaba finally let out a long breath and sheathed Amon’s dagger. It seemed that things had been resolved — as they were fated to be. After all, Sinbad had always been meant to capture Valefor’s dungeon. 

But to think he had overcome this much to achieve it. 

“He’s really something...” Alibaba murmured to himself, smiling. 

“Mm, even I have to agree,” Valefor said, its form shrinking as it padded up to Alibaba. Together, they watched from the sidelines. “His potential is exceptional. If it’s him, maybe he will be the one to unite the world.” 

“Unite the world? Is that why you djinn pick kings?” 

“Everyone has their own reasons and qualifications they look for,” Valefor said, licking one paw. “But that is the wish we share. To support another great king like Solomon...” 

Amon had said something like that too, about magi and djinn searching for a new incarnation of Solomon. Uniting the world... was a very extreme goal. After all, even Sinbad in the future would only become the conqueror-king of the seven seas. The Seven Seas Alliance was only one of the three great world powers, no a complete hegemony. 

But if it was like that, Alibaba understood even less why Amon had ended up with him. 

He lacked any great ambition or even desires. All he wanted was to live a comfortable life as a merchant, not even a top merchant but just a good one. He’d never had the courage to enter Amon’s dungeon alone, and his end goal had been the treasure inside, not power. And even that aside... 

He hadn’t been able to protect even a single country. He even abandoned it and ran away when he failed. 

The only thing he wanted was to make amends and wipe the slate clean. 

That was why he had to return to Balbadd — his Balbadd of fourteen years later, not the still prospering city he and Sinbad had been in. 

He had to find a way back. 

“Valefor,” Alibaba called out quietly, “when we head back, could you send me separately, ahead of the others?” 

“Hmm? I could,” Valefor said. It huffed. “But I really wonder what your deal is. You come to a dungeon, but you don’t want power. You ask some weird thing that people from that world shouldn’t have any involvement in. You recognize the black rukh, but you don’t take any action. You’re traveling with another king and have so much faith in him... Who does that? You’re weird.” 

Alibaba coughed into his fist. 

“This... I also think it’s weird,” he admitted. 

The look he received from the djinn was droll and unimpressed. “Fine, I don’t care that much,” Valefor said. Raising its voice, the djinn called out, “Alright, pay attention! Did you forget this is a djinn’s treasury? Now that the pest is gone, it’s time! I will choose the one to receive my power.” 

Not that there was any doubt who it would be. 

The others drew back, naturally falling in around Sinbad. Hinahoho patted him on the shoulder, making him stumble. “Go on,” he said. “We all acknowledge you as our king.” 

Looking between them, Sinbad smiled, but his gaze finally rested on Drakon, who crossed his arms and looked away. “I don’t,” he said bluntly. “I’m a soldier of Partevia, and... there’s already a person I want to dedicate my life to. But someone who refuses to abandon any of his subordinates... isn’t bad.” 

“What subordinate! I said I’d join you, that’s all!” the smallest assassin protested. 

“Just accept it chief,” one of the others laughed. “You’ve acknowledged him too.” 

“A-hem!” Valefor cleared its throat loudly. “That’s right! Leading others like this is how a king should be. So I, Valefor, will also select you as my king vessel! Rejoice!” A small, glimmering necklace sailed through the air into Sinbad’s hands. “And take this. Dangerous things are moving about out there, so using this vessel, you’ll be able to call me right away if needed.” 

Otherwise, Sinbad did not possess any suitable vessels for Valefor to inhabit, and accumulating familiarity toward a new object would take time. 

“Congratulations! You did it!” Alibaba added, clapping lightly. “Way to go, Sinbad!” 

Grinning, Sinbad slipped the necklace over his head. 

“Yes, yes, good job. Now hurry up and get out of here,” Valefor complained, even though he was going with them. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. You first!” 

A tunnel of light formed around Alibaba, and he had just enough time to wave to the others before the dungeon fell away, leaving only the strange world far beneath until that vanished as well. 

~.~ 

Sinbad and the others returned about three weeks after going in. Alibaba had returned a week earlier and explained the situation to Hinahoho’s family, who had been going mad with worry. 

“Since he said you had already conquered the dungeon and it was just a matter of returning, we have been waiting for you,” the patriarch explained. “He also said you might end up scattered, so I sent messages to the other tribes and kept up a patrol around our territory. We ran into some troublesome fellows trying to sneak in, but don’t worry. They ran like cowards when confronted.” 

The three assassins exchanged looks. 

“Thank you, sir,” Sinbad said politely. “And thank you for your hospitality.” 

“No, I’m the one who needs to express his gratitude. Thank you for looking after my son,” the patriarch said. “Before that friend of yours came back, Pipirika explained what had happened. But now I can see he has found his warrior’s spirit.” 

A rare smile creased his weathered face as he looked at his son. Habitually, Hinahoho’s gaze darted away, before he straightened himself and met his father’s eyes with determination. 

“Father, I apologize. I dishonored our sacred ritual,” Hinahoho said. “I will accept any punishment you see fit.” 

The patriarch shook his head. “You did not hide from the truth in the end. Your heart was true. That is enough. And I’ve heard you slayed a far greater beast than the rampaging unicorn. Even if the celebration was somewhat premature, you are a true warrior now.” 

Hinahoho ducked his head, but there was no denying the way his lips curled upward, pleased and proud. 

Then, something occurred to him. “But if you sent messages to the other tribes, does that mean...” 

“Indeed,” the patriarch nodded. “She has been helping with the patrols. I imagine,” and Sinbad was sure he saw the grave old man’s eyes twinkle, “she will be here very soon.” 

Hinahoho paled. But at the same time, blushed. 

Behind his back, Sinbad and Alibaba exchanged a look. ‘She’, huh? The famous top beauty of Imuchakk? Sinbad wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. Alibaba shot back an unimpressed look. 

~.~ 

The top beauty in Imuchakk was. Tall. 

Very tall. 

“It’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such an esteemed lady, Miss Rurumu,” Sinbad said, tilting his head back as he looked up, and up, and up. 

The famous national chief’s daughter, Rurumu, was taller than even Hinahoho, who was already twice Sinbad’s height. From so far down, Sinbad couldn’t even make out her expression. She was also very big. When she accepted the hand he stretched out — gently, thankfully — her palm wrapped halfway up his forearm. 

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Sinbad,” she said. 

Her voice was unexpectedly gentle and smooth, like moving water. Her eyes too, Sinbad saw, were kind, deep like the sea. However, he didn’t miss the horns tucked into her blue headband. The headband could be worn by anyone among the Imuchakk, even children. Hinahoho had only foregone it before out of his own sense of isolation from the tribe. But the horns were the mark of a warrior. 

One was supposed to be given to the spouse. But since they were both warriors, Sinbad supposed Rurumu and Hinahoho would trade one horn to each other... 

Rurumu smiled and kneeled, so they could see each other more clearly. Her face was indeed worthy of the title number one beauty. “Hinahoho has told me much about you,” she said. “Thank you for supporting him and giving him courage. He is the man I have chosen, and I trust him above all else. His comrades are my comrades. His dreams are my dreams.” 

This person... according to rumors, she was exceptionally accomplished. Beautiful, powerful, and with a bloodline that would be equal to royalty. With her qualifications, if not her father’s position, then she could easily aim for village patriarch or even tribal chief. 

And yet, she only wanted to dedicate herself to one person. Not as a subordinate, but as one who will share his life equally. 

A warrior that only wished to support their family, just like... 

Sinbad blinked quickly, taken aback by the faint stinging behind his eyes. It had been so long since he thought of his father, but he thought he could suddenly see his strong, broad back again, just like all those years ago. 

“If you’re telling me this,” he said slowly, “then, Hinahoho, you plan to join me? Even though it means leaving Imuchakk?” 

That was something they hadn’t discussed so far. There was, after all, a difference between acknowledging someone as the most worthy of conquering a dungeon, and swearing loyalty to them beyond that. While the Sham Lash assassin trio had joined Sinbad for good, Drakon had done the former but not the latter, and Sinbad had somewhat expected that Hinahoho would be the same, especially with a fiancee waiting for him. 

“That’s right,” Hinahoho said easily. He grinned, enjoying Sinbad’s surprise, but his expression slowly turned more serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot, since the dungeon. It’s true that I was finally accepted as an adult and a warrior in my tribe. But that means I have a responsibility to think about our nation’s future too. And Imuchakk… can’t stay closed off from the world forever.” 

“Indeed. As expected of the man I love,” Rurumu agreed, nodding. 

Hinahoho spluttered, going red in the face. 

“It’s one thing to focus inwardly, but we cannot remain blind to the outside world,” she went on. “Imuchakk warriors are mighty, but we are only a small nation. And I caught a glimpse of a djinn’s power, when your friend helped drive off those intruders. It is…” her eyes sharpened with calculation, “...indeed one that can change the world.” 

So Alibaba had helped to fight off the team Partevia sent after them? Sinbad hadn’t known that. 

“A djinn’s power is incredible,” Sinbad agreed, “but it’s not nearly enough for what I have in mind. To create a country, there are many other things needed as well. Money, influence, people, land… And, above all, knowledge. Money and knowledge, those are the two I plan to focus on first.” 

Rurumu smiled. “My beloved” — who turned red and extremely pleased — “and I will need to formally announce our engagement to my father,” she said, completely changing the subject. 

“Oh? Would it be possible for me to attend as well?” Sinbad asked. 

“It would be our honor,” Rurumu said. 

Beautiful, powerful, and also brilliant. Hinahoho was a very lucky man. And Sinbad was just as lucky to benefit from this relationship. 

~.~ 

_ ‘So you guys are Vittel and Mahad? And that guy is Ja’far… Okay, I won’t forget. It’s a bit late, but it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for joining me and putting your faith in my dream. I won’t let you down!’  _

Mahad shifted slightly, pulling Vittel out of his thoughts and making him realize he had been staring into space, a sack of treasure in his hands. Awkwardly, Vittel cleared his throat and hurried to shove the sack next to the others in the sleigh they had been loaned by the Imuchakk villagers. 

At one point, he might have seen it as an insult to be put to use for manual labor like this, but at the moment it was a welcome chance to keep moving and do something while his mind futilely tried to process everything that had happened. 

The dungeon itself had been otherworldly, but they were trained enough — dead inside enough — to ignore the sights, and the traps and monsters beyond that had not been beyond a Sham Lash elite’s capabilities. Being discarded and used up by the court magician’s strange technique had been… not unexpected either. Gruesome and chilling, but not unexpected at all. 

What they didn’t expect was to survive. And… Sinbad. 

How could anyone expect Sinbad, who could only be a singular, unmatched existence? 

Absently, Vittel rubbed his hands together, expecting something to flake off his fingers. But his hands were clean, dry from the cold air. His nose was cold too and doubtlessly red, and threatening to sniffle. 

Remembering he didn’t need to hide his presence, he went ahead and sniffled wetly. Partevia, Reim, Musta’sim had never been this cold. 

Mahad tilted his head. 

“I don’t know either,” Vittel responded, sighing. “It does seem… too good to be true. There’s stupid idealists out there who might accepted assassins into the fold, but Sinbad even saved us and the chief. And he’s so powerful. He really might be able to do it.” 

Mahad gestured, and Vittel nodded in agreement. “It might have been just because of the Imuchakk. In that case, they’ll try again once we leave this country. But you remember what it was like fighting him and that friend of his. Maybe they could be overwhelmed with numbers, but one on one? Only the master would have a chance. And that’s before he gained Valefor.” 

Clasping his hands, he admitted quietly, “We might actually be able to escape the Sham Lash.” 

And that was… an impossible dream. Sham Lash had kept them alive when they were discarded orphans, but it had become their dead end as well. Maybe they should have felt some gratitude toward the organization that kept them fed and trained them, but they both knew better than to waste their feelings. Those that bothered with ridiculous emotions like that were the first to die — like Drakon, Barbarossa’s sheltered little brother. His loyalty had simply made him that much easier to manipulate and then throw away. 

The Sham Lash felt nothing for their assassins, and their assassins didn’t feel anything in return. 

‘They’ve already become my people! And I won’t leave anyone behind! I won’t let my comrades die!’ 

When they woke up, Sinbad’s words echoed distantly in their minds. ...It was almost disgusting how easily the slightest feelings could sway them. 

Choosing between the masters that would doubtlessly kill them, and the master that would at least value them was not difficult. After all, they had already acknowledged the traitorous desire to be free in their hearts. 

That was why they had also stepped forward to compete for the djinn’s power, even if they had just gotten used again in the end. 

Thinking of that, Vittel glanced at his old partner and cleared his throat. “Mahad…” 

A large hand covered his shoulder. Mahad nodded. 

Vittel smiled. “Yeah. We should go see Chief too. After all, we’re going to be comrades now. Sinbad seems like the type who doesn’t like backstabbing in the ranks.” 

Due to the extensive strain on his body and spirit, Ja’far had been ordered to bedrest since their return. The fact that he obeyed this order and quietly remained in the side room given over to them inside the patriarch’s home was a testament to the respect he had for Sinbad, who commanded it. 

The first thing Ja’far did when they visited was curse out Sinbad’s name. 

“That bastard! Who does he think he is! Stupid! Just wait til I get my hands on him!” Ja’far hurled a stream of insults. However, whether because of his uncovered face, small and pale, or their change in circumstances, it was not particularly threatening. 

Vittel and Mahad nodded along, and after several minutes, the tirade of curses and threats finally tapered off. 

“Anyway, a soft idiot like him will probably take it badly if you kill someone, so don’t get carried away,” Ja’far warned them. “For now, it’s better to wait and see what he plans to do.” 

“Since he obtained another djinn, won’t he return to his base of operations to prepare for the next step?” Vittel wondered. When Mahad shifted to one side, he nodded. “Based on what he said to Drakon, it doesn’t seem like he plans to return to Partevia, but our intelligence said his mother disappeared from their village too. So there must be a place where he’s settled down for now.” 

The Sham Lash had been deeply frustrated by the fact that they simply could not track down where Sinbad had disappeared to or how he’d accomplished it. Every port, every mountain pass had been closely watched. They were sure he hadn’t slipped through. And yet he had undeniably left Partevia. By the time court magician Falan had managed to scry him, he had already been at sea. 

Ja’far frowned, looking down at his lap. His hands had fisted in the blankets, as he muttered to himself, “Wonder if we’ll meet her... his mom...” 

He’d have to be a complete moron to let them near his weak spot like that. 

But his home was their home now. Hadn’t he said that? 

Scowling, Ja’far firmly stamped down the small sprout of expectation in his heart. 

~.~ 

“A trading company?” Alibaba repeated.

“That’s right. I’m going with Hinahoho and Rurumu, and I’ll take the chance to negotiate with the national chief to give us exclusive trading rights.” Thinking for a moment, Sinbad added, “And a fleet. Since we picked up so many people, we’ll need a bigger ship.” 

“Planning to scam him quite a bit, aren’t you?” Alibaba noted dryly. 

Sinbad grinned unrepentantly. “What, do you think I can’t?” 

“No, you’ll definitely do it,” Alibaba said. The level of charisma required was just unfair, but he knew that Sinbad would succeed. After all, the kingdom of Sindria had been born out of the Sindria Trading Company. 

It was kind of exciting to witness it himself.

Satisfied, Sinbad nodded. “Then once we have the goods, we can head back to Balbadd and open our first office. We’ll be counting on you for the local contacts.” 

“Hey, when did I agree to join?” Alibaba protested — nevermind that all of his supposed contacts would be a decade too early to use, and even his knowledge of the local trade laws wouldn’t match up exactly. However, as a merchant, he couldn’t help considering it. “Well, it’s a good idea to set up in a trading hub like Balbadd,” he said slowly. “But the distance will be prohibitive, especially if you want to ship anything perishable. Also, Imuchakk is not known in the southeast, so you will need to do additional work to build up interest.” 

“...” Somewhat at a loss over this sudden lecture, Sinbad could only lean back and listen. 

“Compared to that, starting in Reim might be a better choice,” Alibaba mused. “Napolia on the coast is no less of a trading hub, but it’s much closer. Reim is a major market in its own right too. And it’s much more familiar with Imuchakk… although maybe not in the most flattering light. On the other hand, you’ll need to find out what their trading requirements are and probably get a license. ...And you won’t be able to see Madam Esra for a while. What do you think?” 

“...Reim, huh? I admit, I’m curious about that place,” Sinbad said. “Why not? Let’s start there. Since you’re so knowledgeable, we’ll be counting on you!” 

“And I’m telling you, I don’t remember joining,” Alibaba shot back. 

“You don’t want to?” Sinbad asked, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “You don’t think it’s exciting? You love this merchant stuff, I saw you haggling and doing those investments at Balbadd. Think about it, we’re creating a whole new trading company. There hasn’t been one like ever before! And I don’t plan to stop with just Imuchakk, you know. I meant what I said — I’ll connect the world. This is just the first step. You don’t want to be part of that?” 

He looked infuriatingly sure of himself as he gestured with one hand as if holding it out to Alibaba. He really did have a way of pulling people along in his wake, making them believe in the shining dream he spoke of. Alibaba wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse knowing that he really would succeed in everything he claimed. 

It was very tempting. 

He really was very tempted. After all, it wasn’t like he had a way of getting back. So far, it seemed like it had been some kind of freak chance that landed him in this dimension. Maybe he was stuck there forever anyway. Maybe it was time to give up and accept it. 

...Like hell he could just accept it! 

He still needed to settle his debts in Balbadd, his Balbadd. He still had a promise with Aladdin to fulfill. 

And, frankly, he was tired of wondering whether he was messing up Sinbad’s legendary adventures. This wasn’t where he belonged. It wasn’t his place. 

“There’s still things I need to take care of,” Alibaba explained vaguely. 

“Mm-hm. So where are  _ you _ going after this?” 

Alibaba thought for a moment, then had to make a face. “...Reim, probably,” he admitted. That was one of the two remaining leads Yunan had given him — a girl named Scheherazade and the Musta’sim magic academy. 

“Oh, what a coincidence!” Sinbad gave him a smug grin. “At this rate, I’ll start thinking you’re just looking for excuses to stay close to me. There’s no need, you know, my Sindria Company will always have a place for you.” Leaning in close, Sinbad tried to trick he had learned recently. “I need you. We can’t do it without you.” 

“Ha ha,” Alibaba said dryly — because he knew that Sinbad very much could do it without him. Grabbing the side of his smug face, he pushed the troublesome future king straight into the nearest snowbank. 

~.~ 


	8. Interlude 2: Trust

~.~ 

**Interlude 2: Trust**

The Imuchakk respected warriors above all others, and for an outsider, it was easy to assume that strength in battle was all they respected. Especially for Rametoto, a towering figure covered in battle scars, who carried the air of someone perpetually ready to turn any meeting into a duel. 

However, just from Rurumu, that was clearly not the case. She was a trained warrior, of course, who had passed her adulthood trial years prior. But she was also well mannered and extremely well educated. Economy, diplomacy, administration, even political scheming were among the many fields Rametoto had made part of his children’s upbringing. 

Among their group, only Alibaba could match her, as became quickly obvious when Rurumu began to test them on non-physical skills. 

Not that Ja’far’s attempts to turn it into a physical test went any better. Assassination techniques were not a match for sheer Imuchakk power, wielded with great precision. Rurumu needed only one foot to pin him to the deck while continuing to explain, in a calm, gentle voice, that as merchants, they needed the skills of trade and  _ money. _

“Do you even know how to buy things in a store?” Alibaba wondered, in the test, unhappy atmosphere. “I mean… I can’t imagine you guys shopping.” 

“I’ve bought things!” Sinbad declared happily. 

“With actual money? With more money than three coppers?” 

Sinbad laughed — more or less admitting that, no, he had barely seen money all his life. His father had fished and then trade those fish for other goods in the village. By the time Sinbad himself was old enough to seek other work outside Tison, mostly directing ships in and out of Contastia, the national currency was in shambles, so he had also been ‘paid’ through goods. 

And after Baal, Alibaba had handled all actual “paying” — even the first time getting a doctor for Esra. 

“I’m good at haggling though,” he said without a hint of shame. 

“That’s a start, but it works differently from the other side,” Alibaba said. 

“Indeed,” Rurumu agreed. “For a merchant, the most important expression is a smile. This is both your shield and your spear.” 

A shield and a spear, I see, I see, Sinbad nodded along with a smile. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ja’far grumbled, scowling. Unfortunately, even his most fearsome look of disgust only looked cute on his small pale face. It was no wonder he’d covered himself up like a mummy — otherwise, there was no way he’d be taken seriously as an assassin. 

Very gently, Rurumu swatted him across the head. “Use polite language,” she instructed. Glaring in outrage, Ja’far darted a look at Sinbad, the one he had actually sworn to follow, but Sinbad only looked back. He didn’t necessarily think a few swears were the worst thing ever, but Rurumu probably knew more about training someone than he did. 

“Well, to start with, it’s harder to hit someone who is smiling at you,” Alibaba said. “That goes for being rude or pushy too. Nice customers react better to smiles, and difficult customers will have a harder time pressing you. That’s how a smile is your best defense. As for how to attack… that’s a bit advanced, although I think Sinbad is already a natural at it.” 

It was decided they would demonstrate. 

Dragging over a random assortment of barrels, crates and other objects lying around, they set up a makeshift “storefront” on the deck of their Imuchakk vessel. Moving into position in front of it, Alibaba spun around and… smiled. 

It was kind of creepy. Sinbad, who had been with Alibaba for several months already, knew what his actual smiles looked like, and it was not like that. His expression had changed in a blink too. 

Rurumu gestured to Ja’far, acting as Difficult Customer #1. 

“Hmph! Hmph!” Sticking his nose in the air, Ja’far made overemphasized sounds of disgust as he swaggered up to Alibaba’s… stall. This kid had definitely never shopped before. 

“Welcome, sir!” Alibaba greeted him a bright, sugary tone. “What are you looking for today? Could I interest you in some of our exciting new merchandize? Straight from the extreme north, Imuchakk itself! We have anything for anyone, I assure you that you’ll be satisfied!” 

Ja’far had opened his mouth, teeth bared, to retort something immediately after the first sentence, but Alibaba’s quick, loud offers interrupted him one after another, giving him no room to say anything. By the end, the assassin was left glaring mutely, too unsure whether it was his turn to talk yet. 

Just when he thought that it was safe, Alibaba cut him off yet again. 

“This way, this way, sir!” he beamed, gesturing emphatically toward the storefront of crates. “Take a look at these wares! This carving, isn’t it particularly exceptional?” It was actually a broken plank. “What about this weapon? Doesn’t it just radiate fierce strength?” It was a bent hook. “And this—! And this—! And this—!” 

Ja’far did try to talk at several points, but his voice was completely drowned out. Since Alibaba was still smiling happily at him, the assassin looked increasingly at a loss, frozen in place. 

This was basically bullying. 

“F-fine! Fine, I’ll take it! Just shut up!” Ja’far roared, snatching the… short loop of ragged rope… that Alibaba had been showing in his face with enthusiastic praise of its craftsmanship. Ja’far held it up like he was going to strangle Alibaba with it, but he once again had no chance. 

“That will be twenty silvers! Quite a steal, wouldn’t you say?” Alibaba said brightly, crowding in with his hand outstretched and no sense of self-preservation. “Will you pay with coin or bank credit? We, of course, have a close relationship with all the major banks in the city. Please choose whichever method is most convenient, sir!” 

His smile widened. “Of course, if you are unable to pay at this time… We understand! How can you resist such a fine item! We offer a range of very fair credit options.” 

In rural Parthevia, there were no loan sharks, since no one had anything left to loan. However, Sinbad still felt a sudden, instinctive chill go down his spine. Ja’far, who had survived and made his way to the top of Sham Lash at the tender age of 13, felt the same. Without thinking, he hastily fumbled for something to pay with. 

Finding nothing, he leaned away, sweat beginning to stand out across his brow. He didn’t seem to dare to look away from Alibaba’s unchanging smile. When his blindly searching hands closed around a pouch at his waist, he thrust it out. 

It was, in fact, full of chalk from the slate they used for their writing lessons. However, Alibaba accepted it as if it was the promised twenty silvers. 

“Thank you, good sir! We look forward to seeing you again!” he said, already waving. Of course, Ja’far was already jumping three steps back, one hand clutching a metal dart... while the other still held his newly purchased rope. 

“Very aggressive,” Rurumu commented in a praising tone. 

Wasn’t that...  _ too _ aggressive, actually? 

Alibaba’s aggressive sales smile dropped as quickly as he’d assumed it to begin with, leaving a far more natural, neutral expression. “Every sale is a battle,” he said very seriously. “Your voice, your expression, your words are all your weapons, and you have to use them well. That’s what it means to be a merchant!” 

The reactions were varied — Rurumu continued to smile, Sinbad nodded along earnestly, Ja’far just looked disgusted and disbelieving. Hinahoho had managed to excuse himself to mind the ship’s course, and Mahad did his utmost to fade into the background as another piece of the ship. Vittel stroked his chin in thought. 

“Alright, I think I see,” he said. “Let me try?” 

Alibaba gestured him forward. As Difficult Customer #2 stepped up, the salesman of the makeshift stall turned away and back — and revealed a bright, creepy smile again. 

“Welcome, good sir! Could I interest you in some of our exciting new merchandize...?” 

~.~ 

Vittel was also soundly defeated, despite his best approximation of someone with beady eyes and an upturned nose, picking and needling at every small detail — someone real, it seemed, from Ja’far’s disgusted expression and Mahad’s shaking shoulders. In the end, he was forced to depart with several broken seashells, looking not entirely sure where and how he’d been outmaneuvered. 

After that, Rurumu began her lessons. Unfortunately, it was immediately obvious that most of them did not have a head for broader theory, whether of buying and selling or broader social behaviors. But Rurumu was an Imuchakk, and she knew how to handle people who did not like to think too deeply. 

Instead, they drilled. 

How to call out to passersby, how to greet a potential customer, how to introduce themselves, even. Repeating the same phrases over and over as they were corrected on their tone, expression and posture. 

The results were naturally mixed. Mahad slowly but steadily adjusted from his trained body language of looming and intimidation to the opposite, practicing faithfully even though he would not be expected to handle sales alone. Vittel progressed well too, having a good head on his shoulders. Ja’far was good when he tried, but only had the patience to try twice before losing his temper and beginning to swear or threaten, or both. 

Sinbad was, of course, a natural. 

After walking him through the basics and having him repeat them back with impressive sparkle and passion, Rurumu dismissed him to focus on her other pupils, leaving Sinbad free to drift over to the sidelines, where Alibaba was watching their progress. 

“How did I do? Any pointers?” Sinbad immediately fished for compliments and advice. 

“You’re amazing,” Alibaba said frankly. “You could probably earn a fortune within a day with just your charisma. If there’s anything… don’t flirt.” 

Sinbad made a face. “Why? It works.” 

“Sometimes. And then sometimes it really backfires,” Alibaba said. “You can get good results without the flirting, but the bad results will be a total failure. It’s safer not to do it at all.” 

“What’s the point of choosing just the safe way? I want to change the world,” Sinbad shot back, shrugging. He waved a hand flippantly. “Besides, I have good instincts. I can tell the direction of the flow. I’ll know if I’m about to make a big mistake.” 

...At least, he thought so. He had never misstepped in a way serious enough that he couldn’t recover from it. But given all the dangerous situations he’d been in, including two dungeons capable of killing entire armies, wasn’t that proof in its own way? 

He was a special person, chosen by destiny. 

“I don’t know if you’re confident or just arrogant,” Alibaba sighed. 

“What’s wrong with being confident?” Sinbad laughed. “You could be more confident yourself. You’re so good at everything, and you always know what to do. You have treasure and a djinn’s power. What are you worrying so much for?” 

He kept his tone light and casual, but it was a question he sometimes wondered about. 

“W-wha—?” Choking, Alibaba stared at him with an expression of comical shock. “What?!” 

What was that reaction? Sinbad’s eyebrows rose and his smile curled with amusement. 

“I’m good at everything? I always know what to do? Me?” Alibaba pointed at himself, full of disbelief. He huffed. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“Well, aren’t you?” Sinbad wondered. 

“No way,” Alibaba replied immediately. 

Making a thoughtful sound, Sinbad didn’t protest although he still didn’t really understand. From his perspective, Alibaba was very capable. 

Obviously, he was a king vessel and a dungeon conqueror. He could use the djinn’s power exceptionally well, and even without that, his swordwork was exceptional. He could think on his feet when in danger and was obviously not inexperienced with combat. From Sinbad’s observations, he didn’t lose out by much to Drakon, an actual soldier and officer in the Parthevian army. 

But even more than that, Alibaba had been able to adjust to every situation they’d been through. He could manage money, he could even make more, he knew how to read and write, he could negotiate and trade and talk to even Rurumu as an equal. Even when he spent some time worrying and pacing first, he had always settled on something and proceeded with it eventually. 

It wasn’t like Sinbad felt he couldn’t match him. But Sinbad was aware that he often had to rely on his intuition and luck for opportunities that he didn’t always understand and couldn’t replicate purposefully. It worked out for him, and he had confidence that it would continue to do so, but wasn’t there something impressive about doing the same without his gift? 

In a way, it was no surprise that Sinbad couldn’t pull him along the way he had with all the others. Probably, Alibaba had his own path that he wouldn’t bend so easily to Sinbad’s will. 

He just wondered… What kind of path was it? 

Alibaba had a goal of some kind and a purpose. He had his reasons for going to Valefor and now to Reim. He had probably had a reason for going into Amon’s dungeon in the first place as well, although it wasn’t possible to tell whether the two were one and the same. 

He didn’t seem to care much about a djinn’s power, so perhaps his goal had been the treasure. Sinbad hadn’t missed Alibaba’s concern for ensuring Miss Anise’s livelihood and residence. Of course, he hadn’t missed their resemblance either, or the fact that Alibaba — poorly — tried to hide the name he shared with her young son. 

It was easy to guess something like siblings, maybe close cousins, separated after the sister had a child out of wedlock and was chased out of the family, and the brother than helping her in secret. 

It fit. 

But it also didn’t. 

It was probably… only part of the story. 

Because Valefor’s dungeon had only appeared days before they arrived, long after they’d sent out from Balbadd specifically aiming for a dungeon in the extreme north. Because Alibaba had tried to ask the djinn about “the gate between worlds,” which was a thing there was no reason for even kings to care about. Because even Rametoto, so far from Parthevia, had heard of Baal’s dungeon and Sinbad’s conquest of it, but no one ever mentioned a dungeon in Qishan. 

Because Alibaba had looked so  _ shocked _ when he heard Baal’s name. What was it that he’d been expecting? Sometimes, Sinbad wondered. 

Was that why he felt he wasn’t doing well — a difference in expectations? By the standards of a village boy, they had already been successful beyond all belief. But maybe by the standards of a king vessel… 

They had only just gotten started. 

But it was a good beginning, of this Sinbad was certain. 

Grinning, he slapped Alibaba across the back and draped an arm over his shoulders. They were almost the same height now, and the extra weight made Alibaba stoop so they were evenly face to face. “Anyway, you’re pretty great, you know,” Sinbad said, lightly knocking their foreheads together as he leaned in. “So don’t worry so much! It’ll be fine! I guarantee it!” 

Alibaba’s entire expression twitched into a squiggly line, too many vivid emotions blurring into a general feeling of ‘why are you like this’ that was very familiar to Sinbad. 

“Well,” he said finally, his tone dry and crumbling. “Thanks.” 

Sinbad burst out laughing. 

~.~ 

From Imuchakk to Reim was somewhere around a month or two of sailing, depending on the weather and the skill of the crew. With Sinbad’s ability to read the waves and the wind, it was possible they’d make it even faster. The only concern might have been keeping an accurate heading, but Rametoto had provided some old navigation charts for them, from the days where the Imuchakk were feared as unstoppable raiders, before they isolated themselves from the rest of the world. 

Although both Alibaba and Rurumu could read them, their knowledge of sailing was mostly theoretical, so Sinbad preferred to take care of navigation himself. He didn’t mind — there was something very peaceful about studying the night sky and matching up the constellations to mark their way, alone except for the sound of the waves and the wind. 

Well, maybe not entirely alone. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sinbad asked, smiling. 

Scowling a little, Ja’far stepped out of the shadows of the cabin, his footsteps finally making sound again. He hadn’t been trying to hide, precisely, but it was annoying having even his minor efforts to remain quiet seen through by a bumpkin from the seaside. 

His frustration was amusing, so Sinbad would never tell him that he hadn’t actually been able to tell who was there or the precise location. He had just known there was someone nearby, instinctively. That was why he had continued to watch the sky and the sea, instead of turning around. 

It was tempting to offer a bedtime story, but the atmosphere wasn’t quite right. Silently, Sinbad waited. 

“We need to talk,” Ja’far said, grim and rough. He glared at Sinbad, as if daring him to make some quip. 

Sinbad only raised his eyebrows. “Okay,” he said, turning to give Ja’far his full attention. “Let’s talk.” 

Pursing his lips, Ja’far nodded sharply. “Who is that guy? And how much do you trust him?” he said, direct and uncompromising. He scowled. “And don’t you dare ask me who I mean! That guy is too weird, you can’t have missed it! Where did he come from? How can he have a djinn? It doesn’t make any sense!” 

“Yeah, it doesn’t,” Sinbad agreed. “But I kind of like that.” 

“Like…? Are you stupid?” Ja’far wondered. 

Sinbad laughed. “Come on, isn’t it fascinating? Trying to figure out what’s going on with Alibaba is such a great mystery. I’ve been turning it over in my head, but I can’t imagine what his deal might be. It has to be something amazing, right?” 

This approach was incredibly lackadaisy, and Ja’far wasn’t wrong to give Sinbad a look full of disbelief and disgust. Part of it was that Sinbad had always wanted to remain someone who would be open to others, even after everything that happened with Darius. He hadn’t turned away Yunan, no matter how suspicious the self-proclaimed ‘wanderer’ was. And he hadn’t turned away Alibaba either, no matter how inexplicable his circumstances. 

And hadn’t both of them ended up being a great help to Sinbad? 

“He’s a djinn-user you don’t know anything about!” Ja’far protested. “He’s dangerous!” 

Leaning back against the mast, Sinbad tilted his head back to look at the stars again. “Hm... do you really think that? I don’t. That Alibaba? What part of him is threatening?” 

There wasn’t any part, of course. Alibaba was incredibly un-threatening, in fact. When interacting with him, he simply felt like an ordinary person, without any pretense or hidden side. Even Ja’far hadn’t been able to find anything concrete to latch on to. 

Except for the mystery of his origins, anyway. 

“It’s just that you think he’s dangerous, it’s that you don’t know anything about him and you can’t trust him,” Sinbad judged. “So how about this? Trust in me instead. And I trust him.” 

Ja’far’s face scrunched up in frustration, but he didn’t refuse. He couldn’t. After all, he had agreed to become one of Sinbad’s comrades, and even a former assassin like him could understand that this required a certain trust. But he had never trusted anyone, not since his parents. Not since their blood on his hands... 

“...And me?” he muttered, looking away, his lips pressed together tightly. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” Sinbad answered without hesitation. 

A complicated expression creased Ja’far’s face, but before Sinbad could begin to make sense of it, he looked away with a huff. “Stupid,” Ja’far berated. “Trusting an assassin? It would serve you right if I was just getting close to stab you in the back later.” 

“But you’re not going to,” Sinbad said with absolute confidence. 

He could no longer resist, seeing the way Ja’far’s back hunched and his hair puffed up like an angry cat. Reaching out, he clamped a hand on the boy’s head and began to rub vigorously — all while laughing in the obnoxious way that would have gotten him pushed into a barrel by Alibaba, if he had been present. 

A shudder of horror went through Ja’far, and he began to hiss and splutter, flailing at Sinbad, who only chortoled. 

Although he pretended to wince at the small fists hitting his chest haphazardly, Sinbad knew Ja’far wouldn’t put up more than token protest, much less actually hurt him. It was ‘trust’, but also his instincts, the same ones that had guided him to offer to make Ja’far his comrade in the first place. And those instincts, that ability to see the flow, had never steered him wrong. 

Alibaba was the one person he could never get a precise read on, as if he did not belong in the flow at all. Maybe Ja’far was right and that should have made him wary, but Sinbad felt only curious, more and more so. 

After all, he had always dreamed of finding the new and unexplored, beyond his knowledge and the horizon. 

To him, first and foremost, Alibaba was fascinating. But also — even if he walked a path separate from Sindria — a friend. 

~.~


	9. Napolia

~.~

**Chapter 7: Napolia**

There was no blockade around Napolia. That was the first thing Sinbad noticed. No navy ships patrolling every approach, no catapults and ballistas lining the entrance to the port, just a few watch towers that were barely distinguishable from the surrounding buildings. 

It was nothing like his old home. 

Perhaps it wasn't a fair comparison, since Contastia had never been hailed as the second most prosperous city in Partevia. But thinking about it, Sinbad wasn't sure if such a place even existed in Partevia to begin with. Everywhere had been drained dry by the war. Any ship going in or out of the country needed to pass through security checks so tight it was almost infeasible, and the few merchant vessels Sinbad had accompanied from one internal port to another had sailed with half empty holds. 

He'd heard once at the tavern after a job that it hadn't always been like that. Partevia had once had a bustling trading port as well — an island, in fact, dedicated to trade with every corner of the world. But it had been judged indefensible and forcefully abandoned when the war intensified, before Sinbad was even born. 

Napolia wasn't very defensible either, and yet here it was, prospering. 

It took considerable effort for Sinbad to remain standing proudly at the prow without craning his neck at every passing ship, the buildings along the shore, and the tiny figures of the people in every imaginable garb and style. He didn't want to look like the small town hick he was — because he was representing the Sindria Trading Company now, because looking lost and wide eyed was a good way to become a mark, and because Ja'far had already mocked him plenty on the way — but it was very hard. 

“My goodness, it’s quite busy,” Rurumu murmured. “In all this, will we be able to dock safely?” 

“We’ll be fine. In a place like Napolia, they will have ways of managing it,” Alibaba assured her. “The port authorities will send someone over. Look, that’s them over there.” 

He pointed to a small ship sporting several rows on either side, quickly cutting through the waves toward them. A man waved a bright flag toward them and, receiving Alibaba’s acknowledgement, made some kind of gesture, which Alibaba appeared to also understand. 

“Okay, head toward that dock there,” Alibaba told the others. “We’ll be in the fifth spot from the end.” 

As Hinahoho and Mahad guided their ship toward the right dock, he and Rurumu began a quiet discussion regarding the management of major ports — something that was apparently not entirely standardized, but there were certain conventions that could be expected. Part of it was to avoid any accidents and better manage space along the docks, but part of it had to do with politics and avoiding putting vessels from unfriendly countries next to each other of slighting a foreign delegation by leaving them to dock at a less used pier. 

Sinbad listened in with half an ear. There was still a lot that went over his head, no matter how much ground Rurumu had managed to cover in her merciless training during the journey. And there were things like this that even Rurumu didn’t know. Although the national chief Rametoto had given her an extensive education, international trading had not been widely covered for obvious reasons. She had made do while teaching them by combining economics and diplomacy, but certain things would naturally fall through the cracks. 

Now that they were getting closer to shore, the unique design of their Imuchakk vessel was beginning to draw attention from the masses rushing along the docks. Sinbad could imagine their whispers of interest, and he did his best to look even more dashing. 

Ah, he couldn’t wait to explore everything... 

Alibaba’s voice trailed off distractedly in mid-discussion, and his head turned as he stared, frowning, at a docked ship they were passing by. 

“What’s wrong?” Sinbad asked. “It’s got a Balbadd flag, but that shouldn’t be a problem, right?” 

“It has a coat of arms too. It’s an official vessel of the court,” Alibaba said, finally tearing his gaze away. He shook his head as if trying to get rid of some troublesome thought. “It’s fine. It’s probably just an ambassador or something. There’s no way it could be the king himself, he can’t travel this far...” 

For some reason, he laughed nervously and repeated, “There’s no way.” 

Sinbad exchanged a look with Rurumu. She shook her head. 

“Do you want me to buy you a new headscarf?” Sinbad offered judiciously, and very seriously mimed wrapping up his head like ‘Ali’ had done in Balbadd. 

The flat look he received was completely undeserved. 

~.~

The first thing they had to do after docking was find out whether there were any local restrictions on who could do trade in the city and how. Once it was pointed out, Sinbad understood the concept. Although far less intense, it was the same as Partevia — outsider had to battle regulations and paperwork to earn their right to trade in the country. 

One of the dock master’s subordinates readily, if somewhat distractedly, pointed them in the right direction. 

To trade in Napolia, and indeed in Reim as a whole, it was necessary to become a member of the trade union. And as for the details of what the trade union required to grant membership… 

“1000 gold coins?!” Ja’far hissed in shock. His hands seemedling instinctively itched toward his hidden darts — until Rurumu’s hand came down on his head in a light chop. Light by Imuchakk standards, anyway. 

“Proper comportment, always,” she reminded him in a gentle, lilting voice. To the trade union receptionist, she smiled and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you for the information, sir. Please allows to discuss how we will proceed.” 

The trader had to crane his neck back to look at her from where he was sitting. Clearing his throat slightly, he said, “C-certainly. We look forward to your application. I’m sure your business would add exciting new business to our city.” 

Since their group was fairly large, they had decided that only Sinbad, Rurumu and Ja’far would head to the trade union to apply — or fail to apply, as the situation turned out — while Hinahoho, Vittel and Mahad worked on docking and unloading their goods, and Alibaba headed out on his own matters. By then time the first group made their way back to their dock, the second group was halfway through unloading everything onto the pier, and Alibaba had also returned. 

“That girl in Reim? Girl? Yunan, what kind of description was that…?!” he was muttering to himself, holding his head and pacing in the shadow of the stacked merchandize. 

It seemed like his matters were not going well. Fortunately, Sinbad was more than willing to provide a distraction. 

Calling everyone over, he quickly summarized the situation. “In short,” he said, “we need 1000 gold pieces and a letter of recommendation from a member.” 

“1000 gold pieces! That’s highway robbery!” Ja’far insisted. 

“Is it really that big a problem?” Vittel wondered. “I mean, the treasure from Valefor was much more than that. Most of it went to the national chief, but there was still some left aside,” — Sinbad had learned his lesson in that respect — “and if there was anything left from Baal’s dungeon…” 

“There wasn’t really,” Sinbad said quickly. “Not unless we borrow from Alibaba.” He glanced at his friend. 

“It’s fine, I’ll keep the interest low,” Alibaba assured him. It was hard to tell whether he was joking. “It most likely won’t be just one thousand though. The only way to get a recommendation is to pay something in return. Right now, you don’t have any connections, not among the merchants or the nobles, so you can only rely on money, which will be a lot to convince someone to potentially risk their reputation by endorsing you, or on giving away part of your future business in some way.” 

“And we’ll need to find out who the trade union members are first, and who we can try approaching about the recommendation,” Sinbad realized, sighing. 

“Please leave the information gathering to us,” Vittel said quickly. “We have experience with that kind of work.” ...In a sense. Assassinations often required first researching the target, and Sham Lash had also at times served as a branch of Partevia’s intelligence agency. Their methods ran more toward stealing documents than asking around, but it was at least something they had familiarity with. 

“Alright, then I’ll be counting on you,” Sinbad agreed. “We’ll speak to the dock master about paying for a longer stay. Then, we can load the merchandize back on for now and live aboard in the meantime to save some money. I can’t imagine the hotels or warehouses are cheap around here…” 

Rurumu nodded. “But, Lord Sinbad, what shall we do about the food? Even with Valefor’s ice magic, it can’t be kept indefinitely without losing freshness.” 

“If we can’t sell it, then…” Sinbad frowned, pursing his lips. 

It was frustrating. 

Since everything had been coming together, he had gotten too hasty. Something like the perishable nature of some goods like the rare extreme north fish should have occurred to him even without knowing about the difficulty of getting a trading license in Napolia. There were any number of other issues that could cause delay in travel, so he should have rejected anything that wasn’t suited to transport and storage. But he hadn’t been able to predict what would be most appealing to Reim citizens on the market, so Sinbad had focused on taking as many different things as Rametoto was willing to offer. 

This was just a delay. They would enter the trade union eventually, Sinbad was sure. The interest in their Imuchakk goods was clearly high. And even without the perishables, they would have plenty of merchandize to sell. Fortunately, he had even set aside some additional funds from the treasure this time, remembering the difficulties of having kept nothing from Baal. 

It was just a delay. But it was so frustrating. 

“It’s not that you can’t sell entirely, it’s that you can’t sell in public,” Alibaba pointed out. “It should still be possible to sell privately. That is to say, if you approach an individual buyer and sign a contract with them without putting anything on the market in public.” 

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it,” Sinbad noted. “I’m guessing this isn’t a good option.” 

Turning it over in his mind, he thought he had an idea why. 

Alibaba nodded. “It’s not great. You don’t want to be a supplier, you want to be an independent trading company. A famous one. If you resell, someone else will take the goods you’ve brought over and becomes the ones known for selling Imuchakk goods to the public. You’ll lose the first time on the market advantage, which is especially strong in this situation, not to mention the money lost depending on how much the resell buyer drives down the prices.” 

“If it’s like that, better to throw it out and start over clean,” Ja’far judged ruthlessly. 

“It’s just food, right? Compared to our other Imuchakk goods, it’s probably not as distinctive,” Hinahoho disagreed. “Most of it is fish or meat, and you can catch a lot of it outside Imuchakk territories too, so it might have even appeared here before.” 

“That might be true for Eumera sea bream and the like, but I do not think anyone except our warriors would be able to hunt a black elder moose successfully,” Rurumu said. The creature she was referring to towered over even the Imuchakk and was extremely dangerous to hunt. She had a point — Sinbad couldn’t imagine any other tribes treating them as a prey animal, or sharing their kills with outsiders in the rare cases where they succeeded in bringing one down. 

It wasn’t common even for the Imuchakk, and the fact that Rametoto had sold them some was a sign of his high expectations. 

Both selling it to some other merchants to profit off of and just throwing it out felt unacceptable. 

Everyone felt that way, regardless of which option their ultimately favored. The discussion continued back and forth in circles endlessly. Closing his eyes, Sinbad tried to block it out and think. 

There had to be another way. He refused to believe it could be this kind of inescapable situation. He had never gone along with what the world wanted, so there had to be some other solution that would let him come out on top. He just had to find it. 

“I think,” Alibaba said slowly, making everyone quiet down habitually, “there might be a third option. It’ll take extra work, but there might be extra benefits too.” 

“In that case, please educate us, Mentor,” Sinbad said, smiling. 

Again, he received an undeserved look of judgement. 

Clearing his throat, Alibaba began to explain. “The reason you shouldn’t resell is that you’ll be giving ground to competition. Other merchants are your opponents, competing for the same resources — the buying power of the public. But not all merchants sell the same things, so not everyone is in direct competition for the same markets. In that case… why not make use of a market you couldn’t otherwise pursue?” 

Vittel was frowning in confusion, and Mahad’s face was even more blank than usual. It was clear they didn’t understand, and the others were not much better off. 

Only Rurumu nodded thoughtfully. “I see… As expected of Lord Alibaba,” she said. Glancing at her fiance with a smile, she explained, “Imagine if you bring down a silver frost bear. You don’t want to just give away the meat or the fur or the bones, since you can use those. But what about the fangs or claws? You’re not any good at making jewelry, and neither is Rika, and you don’t really have a use for them either. So why not go ahead and sell them?” 

“Oh-ho, so it’s like that,” Hinahoho brightened. 

“Yes, like that,” Alibaba agreed, beaming. “But if you play it smart, you can even have the person you’re selling to tell their customers, ‘These are made from the claws of a silver frost bear, that fearsome beast! The great warrior Hinahoho brought it down himself!’ as free advertisement. ...Well, using that analogy.” Taking a deep breath, he said simply, “What I’m suggesting is to resell to a restaurant.” 

The idea that had been slowly taking shape finally came into focus, spreading out in Sinbad’s mind full of detail — and benefit. 

“Oh!” His eyes brightened with excitement. “I see! We’ll never start a restaurant ourselves, so it’s not like we’re losing potential customers. And if presented right, we can even get people interested in Imuchakk, so they react even better when we finally open our own store!” 

Sinbad had never been to a proper restaurant, but he imagined it was something like the taverns he’d sometimes visited with some of the merchants and sailors he worked with — on their expense, of course. One older man, whose clothes had been tailored for a much rounder figure before the war took a downturn, had proudly boasted about dining in the royal capital and in Aktia, back when his business had been flourishing. 

‘Oh, this fish is quite interesting,’ the rich visitors would say. ‘How did you catch it?’ 

‘It’s all the way from the extreme north! Look at that powerful tail, you can only catch them with an enforced net, but the extra weight makes it hard to maneuver,’ the restaurant owner would brag, for some reason very familiar with the particulars of fishing. ‘Only an Imuchakk warrior would have the arm strength to turn them dexterously enough!’ 

‘Imuchakk? Tell me more!’ 

The image in Sinbad’s mind was a bit too... rustic for a high class restaurant, but it was not entirely off. 

Unaware of what Sinbad was imagining, Alibaba nodded along. “That’s right. When you think about it, people aren’t really going to know what to do with this kind of food items anyway. They won’t recognize most of them or know how to cook them. So this method of introducing Imuchakk cuisine to them is actually better, right? Especially if Miss Rurumu can provide some basic recipes when negotiating. Since you’re providing a one of a kind attraction that will give them an edge over their competitors, with Sinbad’s persuasive skills, a high profit is quite possible!” 

“I can certainly do that,” Rurumu agreed. Turning to their young boss, she asked, “Lord Sinbad?” 

Sinbad grinned. “Let’s do it!” 

Once the decision had been made, he didn’t hesitate and immediately put together a plan of action. 

“Rurumu and Hinahoho, look over the food stuff we brought and decide what kind of recipes we can sell. Also, put aside what we can use as a sample meal when we go to make the deal,” Sinbad issued orders rapidly. “Vittel, find out about the famous restaurants in Napolia and what their owners are like. Ja’far and Mahad, you’ll help me look for an office for our company and move the other goods there. After we’re done with the offloading and the deal, I want most of you to head back to Imuchakk and get a new shipment. We’ll figure out what we want to bring over once we see how the first few days go. Everyone clear on what to do?” 

“Yes!!” A chorus of voices rang out. 

The founding members of the Sindria Trading Company dispersed quickly, leaving only the two dungeon capturers in the ship’s cabin. Sinbad let out a silent breath. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t at least a little nervous, betting like this on obtaining a license somehow. But he would naturally forge onward ahead. 

And to begin with... wasn’t it more fun this way? 

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he smiled and clapped Alibaba on the shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he said simply. 

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. The hard part will be landing the deal and making sure it runs smoothly,” Alibaba insisted, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. However, there was a pleased smile tugging on his lips. 

“Mm. Well, that’s true. I’ll handle the negotiations, but I’d like it if you could come too,” Sinbad said. “Just to observe. You can tell me afterwards how badly I let myself get cheated.” 

There were things Sinbad didn’t know, like the tricks of business. But after making a mistake once, he would certainly never repeat it. He just needed to make sure he knew what his mistakes had been in the first place. 

“Alright,” Alibaba agreed easily. “As long as it’s within the next few days, I’ll go with you. I’ll be heading out to Remano after that.” For some reason, he sighed heavily. “Not that I know what’ll do there. How am I even supposed to meet her...” 

Sinbad patted him on the back. 

~.~ 


	10. Interlude 3: Doing business

~.~

**Interlude 3: Doing business**

Vittel was exceptionally efficient. Within a day, he had a list of the most prominent restaurants in Napolia, as well as information about their recent history, specialities, clientele, and owners. It was unclear whether he had slept at all, but his condition seemed fine when Sinbad squinted at him slightly, so he let it go. 

Before he could begin to deliver his report in detail, Sinbad held up a hand. “Let’s go visit them,” he said. “I’d like to take a look myself.” 

He had always had a special way of judging people and situations. He had a feeling that seeing the restaurants himself would reveal something that Vittel couldn’t have found out. 

The most high class establishment in Napolia was actually outside the city itself, at a private estate on the outskirts. It wasn’t possible to even get close without invitation, and it was necessary to book the location well ahead of time. Although only the most elite citizens and visitors could ever dine there, “Hesperides Garden” had an almost mythical status in Napolia. Going there once was something to brag about for a year. 

“Forget it,” Sinbad said immediately. “Their reputation is already too strong, we won’t have enough leverage.” And besides, he didn’t want Sindria to become a company for only the elite. 

Vittel nodded. “The most prominent ones after Hesperides Garden are these three: Bacchanalia, Octavium, and The East Dock Restaurant. Their rankings tend to vary depending on the source, but they are all mentioned most often…” 

Bacchanalia was especially famous for their wide selection of wines, including from the desert cities and even the far east. Octavium was the newest, built within the last two decades by its owner, Madam Octavia. The East Dock Restaurant was the opposite, built more than a century ago, before Napolia became a major port and when it only had two docks. 

Their owners were, respectively, a merchant family, a famous socialite, and an old master who bought it after retiring from service in the Reim Senate. 

Sinbad’s fingers tapped against his folded arm as he thought. 

“Let’s leave aside the wine place,” he decided, not even trying to pronounce the Reiman name. “The Imuchakk don’t drink wine, and we can’t say how to pair our dishes with their specialty. For the other two… Well, we’re at South Fifth Dock, so let’s go to the other place first.” 

Also, he was somewhat interested in this Madam Octavia. She had to be a rather impressive lady. 

Realizing he was grinning rather ridiculously and almost snickering to himself, Sinbad quickly smoothed out his expression. Fortunately, Vittel hadn’t noticed — or maybe just pretended not to notice, for the sake of being able to continue respecting his boss. 

The architecture in Reim favored triangular roofs and rows of straight columns, somewhat like Valefor’s dungeon on the outside, along with perfectly curved domes and arches. This style matched well with the floaty, elegantly draping robes the citizens most often wore, while also carrying a solid, unshakable strength suited to the oldest, greatest empire of the world. 

However, there were also many buildings with clearly foreign inspirations as well, especially in the commercial districts where the foreigners lived and worked. They did not always match the current owners, having changed hands many times, and sometimes were a combination of different styles altogether. 

This was also the case for the building Sinbad had picked for Sindria Company’s first office — several domes that were quite Reiman, blocky foundations inspired by Aktia, and thin towers from the desert cities. 

Sindria Trading Company was going to connect the world, after all. It was only natural for even their first office to look the part. 

Their future storefront, they would naturally decorate in the Imuchakk style. There were many establishments doing the same — showing off brilliant fabrics, richly woven rugs, large pots of every shape, unusual plants, and even animal skins — and Sinbad studied them with interest as he and Vittel made their way down the streets. 

The Octavium restaurant was situated well, facing a large plaza on the intersection of the commercial district and a fairly upscale residential quarter. Large throngs of people were constantly passing through, along with fancy carriages of the well-to-do. The reason it could afford such a prime location was likely its small ground floor — the restaurant was a tower of at least eight stories. Sinbad couldn’t count further, even craning his neck to look up at it, from down on the ground. 

“The higher floors are reserved for favored customers and special events,” Vittel explained as they found a corner of the plaza to observe from. “Supposedly, the view from the top floors is exceptional, particularly at night.” 

Sinbad nodded in acknowledgement. “What about the menu? And the customers?” 

“The base cuisine is Reiman. But a lot of the dishes change depending on recent trends in the city and in Remano. Octavium is known for always staying on top of what’s popular at the moment,” Vittel said. This was also a matter he had looked into. “The customers are varied. For the bottom floors, especially during the day, even ordinary people can go there on occasion. It’s most popular with independent merchants and younger nobility. It seems like the most well-off and the old aristocracy find it too… trendy.” 

“Thought so,” Sinbad agreed, smiling. 

But that was fine. They didn’t want the highest possible elites anyway. 

“Hm…” he drew out, stroking his chin and eyeing the building with interest. “How long are those wide bolts of navy cloth we brought? They’d look good as banners, right?” 

For some reason, Vittel gave him a slightly strange look. 

“Oh, are you thinking I shouldn’t act like we’ve already succeeded when we haven’t even gotten started?” Sinbad guessed, grinning. ...In fact, it was more that he sounded like he was already planning to buy out the entire place, but Sinbad was not actually a mindreader. “Don’t worry, I have a good feeling about this place! Let’s head back and send a letter to the owner. We’ll have the negotiation tomorrow.” 

“You don’t want to see the East Dock Restaurant first?” Vittel wondered. “Or at least get a look at the owner?” 

“No, this is good,” Sinbad said, completely certain. “We’ll succeed. I can feel it.” 

The flow was in his favor. As it always was. 

~.~ 

The letter Sinbad had delivered to Octavium’s owner, the Madam Octavia herself, was actually two missives together. 

One was a request to reserve the top floor of the restaurant the next night. The other was an invitation — for that same night. Naturally, Sindria Company would provide the food. After all, what better strategy than to let their product speak for itself? Both were written by Rurumu, since Sinbad’s skill with a pen was still quite shaky, along with a stylized drawing by Hinahoho on the letterhead to add an Imuchakk flavor. 

To keep from crowding, it was decided that only Sinbad, Ja’far, Rurumu and Hinahoho would attend, along with Alibaba to observe… and also keep the cooked dishes warm. 

“Amon must be so mad at me right now,” Alibaba muttered, as he carried the food boxes through the discreet rear entrance and the servant staircase up to the room they had booked. 

Ja’far, who had been tasked with helping him, rolled his eyes. “Doubt Valefor’s any happier,” he pointed out, since Sinbad had been similarly employing his second djinn’s great cosmic power for the purposes of keeping the perishable goods frozen. 

Alibaba laughed awkwardly. There was, he felt, a world of difference between how a djinn would look at a king like Sinbad and how Amon had looked at Alibaba. The fire djinn had been deeply unimpressed with him from the start, and that impression could not have possibly improved since then. 

Could a djinn change their mind and un-select a king vessel? Alibaba wondered it he’d be the first to find out. 

Whatever the Madam Octavia thought of Sinbad’s invitation, she had accepted their deposit and reserved the famous top level of her restaurant for them. Alibaba and Ja’far moved quickly to lay out Rurumu’s dishes — and also to change the decorations to Imuchakk’s deep blue cloth and polished white bone. 

They had practiced and discussed ahead of time. There may have been some infiltration involved to check the layout and furniture of the room they’d reserved. All so that they would be ready. 

And they were. When Ja’far signaled that someone was coming up the main stairs, he and Alibaba had just finished. Quickly, they moved into the background, like the proper servant types they were pretending to be. 

They didn’t have the time or materials to completely change the room, but the effect was already good. There was certainly no other dining experience like in all of Napolia. 

The door to the main stairwell opened, and Sinbad stepped inside first, followed by Hinahoho and Rurumu, who flanked him like royal guards. It made for an impressive sight, but even more impressive was that Sinbad didn’t lose his sense of presence despite being dwarfed by them on either side. 

“We are truly grateful to have your company tonight, Madam Octavia,” Sinbad said, turning back and sketching a bow as he gestured further inside. “Please, this way. Everything has been prepared.” 

The one who walked past him was an older woman with the pale gold hair characteristic of Reim’s citizens, styled into a complex crown of thin braids, pearls and silver jewelry. More pearls dangled from her ears, and silver decorated her pale robes. In the warm lamplight, she glowed pale and ethereal. It was the kind of effect achieved only by those very conscious of their appearance and style. 

Like most of the powerful elite, she didn’t even spare Ja’far a glance as he pulled out a chair for her at the table. Playing his part, Alibaba did the same for Sinbad. 

“I must admit, this is the first time I’ve been invited to my own restaurant,” Octavia said. She didn’t look at Sinbad either, even as she spoke to him. Instead, her gaze slid over the decorations, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Her tone was cool and disinterested. 

Sinbad smiled, folding his hands and keeping his eyes on her without wavering. Alibaba knew that the sense of pressure he could exude just with that was not small. As expected of the future conqueror-king. 

“Surely the restaurant created and headed by Madam herself is the most suited to Madam’s tastes,” Sinbad said. “And of course, the view is unmatched in Napolia.” He gestured to the open windows showing a grand view of the city and its lights, all the way to the harbor and the lighthouse at the port entrance. “Our headquarters are simply no match when it comes to entertaining an honored guest.” 

Finally, the madam’s pale blue eyes shifted to Sinbad, but she didn’t say anything. 

She didn’t need to. They, outsiders with no backing or standing in Napolia, were the ones who had something to sell to her. 

“Shall we?” Sinbad offered, unbothered. 

At his queue, Ja’far and Alibaba moved silently to serve the first course, artfully arranged on a special set of plates ahead of time. 

“Our Sindria Trading Company’s starting business is based on our exclusive trading agreement with Imuchakk in the extreme north,” Sinbad explained as the dishes were placed in front of them and the drinks were poured. “Imuchakk is a land of white and snow, isolated from outsiders. Their goods have never appeared on the market before, so we would like to offer you a small sample...” 

It was already the beginning of summer, and although the heat had not yet fully set in, it was already too warm for heavy meals. Rurumu had carefully considered this when putting together the menu. 

The first dish they served was a light soup with a warm color and slightly sweet flavor, boiled form bones. 

Taking a small sip, Madam Octavia finally allowed the smallest opening. “I have heard of Imuchakk,” she said. “But the stories were ghastly — bloody minded raiders, ships looted and burned. Not the most appealing image.” 

Rather an opening, it was an attack. 

In other words, ‘how do you plan to sell something like that?’ 

“There was something like that, wasn’t there?” Sinbad asked, turning to Rurumu. 

“Indeed. In the past, our nation was still too underdeveloped,” Rurumu said, her expression gentle, her hands folded demurely. Despite her stature, her aura was unthreatening and open. “It was a terrible time. Fortunately, our ancestors were able to find a better, more civilized way of life. They established our federation and the council of chiefs who settle disputes within our tribes. Without internal and external strife, we were finally able to advance as a people.” 

“Thanks to this, the national chief Rametoto signed the trading agreement with us,” Sinbad added, “so that the Imuchakk can begin to connect with the outside world in a peaceful way.” 

Madam Octavia didn’t reply. When she set aside the bowl of soup, it was slightly less than half full. Quietly, Ja’far cleared it away and set out the next course — a clear piece of ice fish, finely prepared to melt in your mouth. 

“We have been entrusted with a wide variety of goods,” Sinbad went on. “Fabrics, carvings, ceremonial works, corals, furs... fish and game are among them. We would like to spread them across Napolia, Reim and the world.” 

Tapping lightly at her mouth with a napkin, Madam Octavia looked at him coolly. “And since you do not have a trading license, you can only do this through an intermediary,” she ruthlessly pointed out their predicament. “Or else your goods will be nothing but rot by the time you obtain it.” 

Unexpectedly, she smiled. It was small and tight, and looked like an expression befitting a lion, despite the lack of teeth. 

“But I know what it’s like to be a newcomer to the business. There is something to be said about an entirely new spread like this,” she said. “Very well. I’ll help you out, young man.” 

Sinbad laughed, cheerful and light-hearted. “Madam, there are still two more courses! I haven’t even told you yet what we are offering!” 

The main course was the black elder moose meat, each of the small pieces full of flavor. A mouthwatering aroma rose from the plates as they were set onto the table. Surreptitiously, Alibaba finally released the small bit of magic keeping them warm. 

Amon was definitely going to un-choose him for this. 

“How is it?” Sinbad asked as Octavia carefully placed a piece into her mouth and chewed. It was a rhetorical question, and pressing for praise would have just appeared lacking in confidence. “Naturally, we would not consider something as simple as a few ingredients to be worth Madam’s time. To draw the interest of Madam’s esteemed customers and everyone in the city, more is needed.

“Ingredients, recipes and setting — we will provide all of it. Madam, let’s create a new sensation all through Napolia. How does that sound?” 

Finishing the last piece of the meat and taking a sip of her drink to wash it down, Madam Octavia smiled slightly. “You’ve certainly thought through it. Almost enough to make it seem like your original intent and not a fallback,” she said, aiming again at their weaknesses. “But such foreign ingredients, recipes and decorations — there is no guarantee they will be popular. My business is doing quite well. Why should I take a risk on this?” 

The main course was cleared away, and the desert was set in front of them. Abusing a djinn’s power again, it was a soft frozen treat with a flavor Alibaba still couldn’t understand but which made you want to take another bite to taste it again. 

Sinbad leaned forward. “Isn’t it better to gamble on taking the lead instead of just chasing after trends?” 

Alibaba, who had been moving back to his position in the background, winced. Not at the harsh sound of a desert dish being struck by a silver spoon, something that the well-cultured Madam Octavia had avoided the entire meal through, but at Sinbad’s misstep that prompted it. Even without looking, he could imagine how frigid the proprietess’s expression would be. 

Although he maintained his composure well, there was a faint twitch at the corner of Sinbad’s mouth, giving away his consternation as he realized the same thing. 

Originally, all of this had been just to drive up the value of their sale and improve their bargaining position. Whether or not they would be making it hadn’t really been in question. But if the madam flew into a rage, then… 

“Surely a businesswoman of Madam’s caliber is also aware of this,” Sinbad pressed on, recovering. “It is better to be an innovator than to simply ride the tide. It is because of Madam’s expertise and deep knowledge of the city and the people that it will be possible to seize the initiative, and everything we provide will naturally still rely on Madam’s alterations to create the best effect.” 

“Oh? Is that so…” she drew out. “So you’re counting on me?” But even so, her expression had thawed slightly. 

“Let’s say it will be a mutually beneficial partnership,” Sinbad said. 

The negotiations were back on track and, sharing a business smile, the two owners enjoyed their desert. And, as the meal came to a close, it was time for the real battle to begin. 

“Since you’re looking to enter the trading union, I’ll give you 1000 gold for the whole thing,” Madam Octavia said, naming the first price. 

There were many schools of thought about whether it was better to bid first or let the other party put out the first price. Was it better to seize the initiative and control the flow from the start, as Sinbad usually espoused? Or was it better to wait and observe, gaining as much information as possible based on what your opponent offers? 

In this case, Alibaba suspected that Madam Olivia had gone first just to avoid letting the young greenhorn in front of her put out a completely unacceptable figure. She wasn’t necessarily wrong. Sinbad and everyone in his group had a very skewed idea of how much anything was worth, if they had any idea at all. 

Using the trading union’s membership fee, the madam provided a working base they could understand. However, Alibaba knew that she was also completely scamming them. 

...But this was Sinbad’s matter, so it wasn’t his place to say. 

Sinbad laughed. “It’s very kind of Madam to consider our position, but the membership fee is no issue for us,” he said. “Since Madam will be taking on a risk and in hopes of future cooperation, we’ll be satisfied with about… ten times that amount.” 

“Young man, you are really quite brazen,” Madam Octavia commented. “Twice my offer, as a favor to a junior…” 

And thus, the battle had begun. 

~.~ 

In the end, Sinbad hadn’t wished to draw the negotiations out too long, so he had called it perhaps slightly prematurely. However, he seemed satisfied with the outcome. He had traded Rametoto from Valefor’s treasure, especially the magic tools Alibaba cautioned him against selling on the open market, and it had been done in bulk, so it was difficult to even tell whether they had made back the cost of the materials or how much they might have gained. 

To the untrained ear, the sheer number of coins involved sounded extremely impressive. They had been given bank notes, but if it had been actual coins, perhaps even Rurumu and Hinahoho would have found it difficult to carry. 

The atmosphere was unbreat as Sindria Trading Company’s representatives, plus one, headed back to their newly acquired headquarters. They had done well for themselves in their first business deal, and Madam Octavia had even written off the cost of their reservations as a gesture of good will. 

“So,” Sinbad said as the streets around them emptied, “how did I do?” 

He had been humming cheerily, and there was still a smile on his lips as he glanced at Alibaba. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” his friend wondered.    
  


“I can handle it! How badly did she rip us off?” 

The others too turned to listen with interest. Alibaba could only sigh, tugging open the narrow collar of his borrowed shirt. “Well, first, you tried to strike at her weak spot because she’d been doing the same, right? But that kind of thing goes badly with people who have a strong pride. She was doing it to test you, a newcomer, and it was her right as a senior to be disdainful. But if you start shooting back, it’s just too disrespectful.” 

“Mm. I got that feeling,” Sinbad agreed, sighing and shrugging lightly. 

“Elders feel respect is their due, and some are not flexible about propriety,” Rurumu agreed. 

“Flirting with her would be even more disrespectful,” Alibaba added dryly. 

And that definitely something Sinbad had tried, before Alibaba forcefully made every lamp in the room flicker for a moment. He had been ready to kick him in the shin too, but that might have been too obvious and not fitting for the role of a servant he was playing. 

“You didn’t have to be like that. I was just going to compliment her!” Sinbad protested. “Who doesn’t love a compliment?” 

“And that’s why you were holding both her hands?” 

Sulkily, Sinbad waved away the troublesome topic. 

“Aside from that?” Alibaba went on. “It was pretty obvious you were just guessing on how much money to ask for. She just didn’t point it out because it was useful to her.” Unlike every other weakness, which she ruthlessly exposed to undercut them and their credibility. 

“What do you think would have been a good number?” Sinbad asked. 

Despite the criticisms, he didn’t show any sign of displeasure or wounded pride. His ability to always look forward and continue on his path was truly amazing. 

“I also don’t know,” Alibaba admitted. “I’ve never sold as a supplier for a restaurant, I don’t know the going price for rare ingredients, I don’t even know the usual prices at the Octavium. I doubt you could have found out all that in time for this meeting anyway. The bigger problem is that you set a one-off price for the entire set — ingredients, recipes, and decorations — without even discussing how much you’re providing. That she agreed without asking is a pretty clear idea that you’re underselling. She was willing to pay that much just for the idea.” 

Sinbad’s eyes slowly widened, and he slapped a hand to his forehead, grimacing. 

For him, the entirety of their perishable goods were a single matter to deal with quickly and with as few losses as possible. There was never a question of just selling part of it, so he didn’t think too much about how much there was. 

But for a restaurant, whether it was enough for twenty customers, one hundred, or thousands was a big matter. 

“Right. You didn’t mention how many fish you’re selling, or how large they are. Well, it would make more sense to discuss it in terms of how many dishes could be created,” Alibaba said. “You could have said, ‘We are providing enough for four thousand individual dishes. Let’s say five gold coins each, for a total of twenty thousand. Of course, since these are unique, limited quantity dishes, Madam will determine the final selling price to the public…’ Then add a separate bulk fee for the recipes and the decorations.” 

“Five gold coins for a dish?” Ja’far muttered. 

“If it really becomes a trend, the nobility will easily pay several times that,” Alibaba said. “It’s an unheard of, priceless experience. How much the final product sells for is entirely up to her skills as a businesswoman.” 

“How much  _ do _ we have?” Sinbad wondered, his eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to think back to their cargo. “It can’t be that much?” 

“Did you see the size of the plates? A single fish would be several dozen dishes, at the very least. This is just an example though, I haven’t thought about the numbers,” Alibaba said. He smiled. “Even if you know the basic skills of trade, the details of a market are important too. That’s part of why breaking into a new market is so difficult even for powerful companies.” 

Groaning, Sinbad let his head loll bonelessly. “I underestimated the world of business too much,” he mumbled. 

“That’s right!” Alibaba laughed. “Don’t look down on merchants! ...Well, that aside, you did well controlling the negotiations. Keeping so calm and confident, especially when you don’t have all the cards, is amazing.” 

In fact, Sinbad had done exceptionally well for someone with no background in trade, or business, or restaurants for that matter. Within a few months, once he gained the experience necessary, he would doubtlessly become a terror on the market. 

“As expected of Sindria’s founder!” Alibaba praised. 

Sinbad grinned back. “Just watch,” he said, “this is just the beginning!” 

~.~


	11. Harun

~.~

**Chapter 8: Harun**

The flow of destiny could not be known by anyone, no matter how singular or special, but it continued ever onward along its path. 

Whether an occurrence was chance or fate, who could say? 

With the non-perishable goods stowed at their temporarily yet unopened office and the perishable foods successfully being used up in partnership with a restaurant per Alibaba’s idea, Sinbad sent the rest of his staff back to Imuchakk to stock additional merchandise while he himself remained in Napolia to work on obtaining the trade union membership they needed to proceed. 

The one thousand gold coin fee was not a problem. They had easily earned several times that from just selling the Imuchakk foods and recipes, and there had even been something left over from Sinbad’s discretionary funds after purchasing the new office. The problem was the recommendation letter from a union member. 

Well, Sinbad didn’t precisely see it as a problem — rather, it could be considered a minor challenge. 

Before departing, Vittel and Ja’far had provided him a fairly comprehensive list of trade union members in Napolia, as well as notable ones from around the rest of the empire. It would be up to Sinbad to choose the one to approach and how to convince them to endource the Sindria Company. 

There were fewer than he had expected. 

“It’s because each one of them is a magnate,” Alibaba explained. “They each own many businesses. For most companies who wish to trade in Napolia, getting membership to the union is too difficult, and they instead sign a contract to become subsidiaries to an existing member. This new owner then receives a percentage of their profits but leaves the active management to the original owner. This was, they can amass a greater fortune just by basically selling the right to use their membership.” 

“Ah, I think there used to be guys like that at the port. They’d have several boats that they’d loan out,” Sinbad recalled. His mouth twisted in a sneer. “Not that they could do it for long. Everyone ran out of money to pay them.” 

“Then that company closes and can no longer do business in Napolia. The only loss might be to the reputation of the union member who was their patron,” Alibaba said, sighing. “But Napolia is very prosperous, so there are countless other companies always looking to take their place.” 

“I don’t want to do that,” Sinbad said firmly, even without being told that it was the easy way out. 

“Mm,” Alibaba agreed. “But it’ll be hard to convince someone to recommend you for a full membership. If I had to guess, it’s something done for business partners, or old allies, or because of a very hefty bribe. You could say that you need to offer a deal so good that just making you a subsidiary would be insufficient.” 

Alibaba himself was still around in Napolia, but he was busy arranging transport to Reim for his mysterious personal business — in between sighing about it a whole lot. He had his own troubles, it seemed. 

That was fine. Sinbad had no intention of relying on his friend to solve all his problems for him. 

For his grand dream, he would find a way himself. 

Of the trade union members, several were not individuals, but rather countries, with membership being attached to the position of the head of state and passing down to each successor — with a certain renewal fee, of course. Partevia was naturally not among those countries, but Balbadd was. Some of the others Sinbad recognized, but some he did not and could only idly look up out of interest. 

He had no particular expectations about being able to sway the representative of an entire nation. A king would have pride far above a merchant or noble. A small company like Sindria would not have anything to offer yet. 

...Or would it? 

Wasn’t their first deal precisely with the leader of a nation? Wasn’t Sinbad himself precisely a king vessel? Even if he didn’t quite understand what that meant, it could not be a title given casually. 

He had intended to work his way up, but maybe… 

Rolling open a world map, he began to search out the nations with trade union membership, tapping lightly at each one in turn. Balbadd, Aktia, Musta’sim, Drachma in the north… None of it felt right. 

Sinbad could more or less understand what giving a recommendation meant. It was a gesture holding a strong meaning, indicating the expectation of a long-lasting, profitable partnership. Thinking about it, that was fine. Good even. His dream was to create a country that would connect the world, so building more partnerships was only natural. 

But what could he offer to sway the interest and purpose of a real king? The power of a djinn? But Sinbad didn’t want to become a weapon. A connection to Imuchakk? Perhaps the countries closest to the extreme north would have an interest, but Imuchakk had remained in isolation for many years, so the threat presented by their raiders in the past had faded, and so had interest in their nation. The promise of Sinbad and Sindria’s future triumphs? It had been what swayed Rametoto, but Sinbad didn’t know enough about other kings to guess whether they would see the same things that the national chief saw in a boy’s seemingly naive, grandiose dream. 

And yet, there had to be a path forward, Sinbad was certain. He just had to find it. 

Still turning the question of how to proceed over in his mind, Sinbad went about his daily duties — managing the steadily decreasing stocks of Imuchakk foods. 

Since they had successfully brokered a deal with a high-class restaurant to purchase and make use of their Imuchakk faires, the food stocks would have normally been transferred to the restaurant’s own stores. However… several of those foods were being preserved using Valefor’s ice and stagnation magic, which Sinbad needed to reapply regularly. 

Rather than explain this matter and his nature as a dungeon conqueror to the owner of the restaurant, Madam Octavia, Sinbad chose to simply say they would deliver the food stocks in portions every day. Since Madam Octavia was purposefully allotting only a small amount of food every day to raise anticipation and the price of each dish, that was fine by her. 

During the day, the restaurant Octavium served some comparatively more affordable “Imuchakk-inspired” dishes using normal ingredients easily purchased from its usual suppliers, for ordinary customers who wanted to get in on the new fad. It was only in the evenings that the limited number of true Imuchakk dishes was served to the richest of Napolia’s elite. 

Thus, to ensure freshness, Sinbad brought over the day’s ingredients every afternoon. 

Slipping through Napolia’s shadowed back alleys with a box on his back, he almost felt like he was going to the market to sell fish again, the way he had years back, before even fishing became impossible in Partevia’s impoverished countryside. 

The first day he had come over, the restaurant staff hadn’t known who he was, so not only the chefs but even the busboys had ordered him around and berated him for arriving late, looking too sloppy, having a too casual attitude. The look on their faces, when the madam herself came to the kitchens to greet him and confirm the menu with him, had been priceless. 

Nowadays, the reception he received was quite different. 

“Greetings, Sir Sinbad!” the staff nearby immediately chorused, pausing in their tasks to stand and bow as he entered through the back door. 

“No need, no need. Please carry on,” Sinbad assured them quickly. 

Since he came every day, they had at least grown accustomed enough to take him at his word and carry on without much further fuss. Only the head steward — or someone with a similar role — hurried forward to greet him and personally direct him to deliver the ingredients to the chef. 

The Octavium was a high class restaurant, and the head chef was exceptionally skilled and dedicated to his craft. The new ingredients and recipes from Rurumu had fired up his passions, and he received each day’s delivery with great enthusiasm. 

“Many thanks to Sir Sinbad!” he exclaimed, hands moving almost in a blur to unpack everything from the cooler box. “For today’s set... this is the last of this Ice Tooth Eel, right?” 

“That’s right,” Sinbad confirmed. “Based on the schedule we discussed, starting tomorrow I’ll bring the Fluttering Rainbow Lampreys instead.” 

“Very good, very good...” the chef murmured, his attention already on the dishes to be prepared. 

As he began to bark out sharp orders to his sous chefs, Sinbad quietly retreated. 

With the day’s delivery complete, there was nothing else for him to do at the restaurant. Maybe in another few days he would ask the madam how the plan was proceeding, but there was no reason to do so yet. In any case, he knew it was going well — when he walked around Napolia, listening to various gossip, the topic of the Octavium’s new menu often came up in excited, envious tones. The Imuchakk cuisine had successfully become the talk of the town. 

He was just about to depart when a sudden commotion made its way through the kitchen. Just like when Sinbad arrived, the staff quickly put aside what they were doing and courteously greeted a very important personage who had suddenly stepped into their busy domain — Madam Octavia herself. 

Although she was the owner, she was a businesswoman, not a chef, and she did not frequent the kitchens to Sinbad’s knowledge. He watched with interest as she greeted the head chef. 

“We have a very important guest tonight,” she told him. “Make sure you prepare the best set of the night for the seventh floor reservation. The wine will be Qishan’s best red. Absolutely no mistakes can be allowed.” 

“Yes, Madam,” the head chef acknowledged. 

“He already came by with today’s?” Madam Octavia noted. “Send someone to catch up with him—” 

“No need, I’m here,” Sinbad spoke up. He smiled charmingly. “You have a need for me, Madam? You need only ask.” 

Having seen countless young charmers in her years among high society’s leading figures, the madam didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Young Master Sinbad,” she said cooly, “in fact, I do have a need for you. Our guest has requested to meet you, the proprietor of these exciting new goods. And I will tell you — it is in your best interests to accept.” 

Sinbad’s expression grew serious, and he nodded once, slowly. 

Without a doubt, he had seen it just then — the flow of destiny moving through the madam. 

It seemed the chance he had been waiting for had finally arrived. 

~.~

A group of servants in the orderly uniforms of waiters snaked their way up the back stairs, each holding some plate or dish in careful hands. Sinbad, alone holding nothing, followed silently behind them, watching everything with interest. 

Of the floors used for seating customers, the seventh was the highest, and their procession had to nimbly dodge other, smaller teams going in and out of lower floors several times. There was not a single clink from the dishes, and the surface of the soup didn’t even sway. It was a truly impressive show of skill. 

The seventh floor was comprised of one dining room that could host a small party if necessary. This evening, it contained only one table, set for one. The single place was taken by an older man with long pale hair and neatly trimmed goatee. A pair of guards stood motionless in the shadows nearby. 

A very important guest. His clothing and jewelry were certainly of high quality, but Sinbad couldn’t guess much else about him. Although the style was perhaps… Balbadd? 

Setting out the first course, the servers quickly retreated. Taking a deep breath and putting on a smile, Sinbad stepped forward. 

“Greetings to our esteemed guest,” he said and, when the man’s gaze moved to him, sketched a shallow bow. “I am Sinbad, the proprietor of the Sindria Trading Company. I was told you wished to speak with me?” 

The man’s fine eyebrows rose in surprise, but at the same time, his gaze sharpened. “I see…” he said slowly. “I had heard from the union that you are quite young, but I did not realize it was to this extent. Very well, come join me.” 

A waiter who had lingered silently stepped forward to set another place for him and even silently slid in his chair. However, Sinbad quickly waved him away before he could try to add anything to his plate or request the kitchen for another set of dishes. 

“You are a member of the trade union?” Sinbad asked, studying the man across from him. 

“Indeed. Forgive the belated introduction — I am Harun, a merchant,” the man said. 

This kind of introduction was an impressive case of less being more. A member of the trade union was certainly ‘a merchant’, but every member of the union was at the very least a merchant of great renown. To further provoke that kind of response from Madam Octavia, ‘Harun’ doubtlessly had some other identity as well. There were a number of merchants from or based in Balbadd on the member list... 

But if he wasn’t going to reveal it, Sinbad certainly wouldn’t ask. He had gotten plenty of practice when it came to letting others keep their secrets, with Alibaba. 

Instead, the relevant part was that he was from the trade union. 

They had theorized that the trade union would make some move of their own. The prospect of trade with Imuchakk was simply too appealing. But now that Harun had arrived, the question was what kind of move it was. 

Attempts to snatch away Sindria’s exclusive trading rights could most likely be discounted, given the potential threat of angering Rametoto and making him close down the border again. But something like trying to force Sindria into the subsidiary position they’d discussed was possible. 

The best scenario, of course, was some method of obtaining a member’s recommendation letter. 

Sinbad smiled. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Sir Harun.” 

“What an interesting spread,” Harun said, turning his attention to the dishes set in front of him. “I’ve always wished to establish trade ties with Imuchakk, but their hero leader, Rametoto, ignored every missive I sent. I wonder how you accomplished it.” 

“Oh, it’s quite a story,” Sinbad said, his smile widening. “But... it’s something I haven’t shared with anyone except my friends.” 

“Friends, is it...” Harun murmured, tapping lightly at the soup bowl and lifting up a spoonful. He sipped it slowly, savoring the taste. He obviously understood Sinbad’s meaning, but to acknowledge it so easily would have seemed too eager. 

“I’ve been fortunate to have many friends who support me on my journey,” Sinbad said. “Friends who have watched over me from the start, friends I met along the way, friends who were first my opponents but acknowledged my dream... All of them helped bring me where I am now. And to continue on my path, I would like to make friends here in Reim, in the world of merchants as well.” 

Harun smiled, setting down his spoon next to the empty soup bowl. He was going to make Sinbad say it, but that was alright. After all, Sinbad was the junior and the one who needed something. He had learned enough to know when to be circumspect. 

“Sir Harun,” Sinbad said, “why don’t we become friends?” 

Shaking his head, Harun chuckled quietly. “Friends, with a child half my age? It should be obvious that it’s not possible.” 

However, that was not a refusal. 

“What’s impossible about it?” Sinbad wondered, spreading his hands. “Is the joy of traveling the world not in meeting and becoming friends with people across many lands and cultures? Hearing their stories of things you couldn’t have imagined before? So why don’t we trade stories? My story of warriors and heroes in Imuchakk for your story of Napolia’s great merchants?” 

“Warriors and heroes… it sounds fascinating indeed,” Harun murmured. For a moment, his expression was unreadable as he weighed the thoughts in his mind. Then, finally, he smiled. “Very well. It would be splendid to have a tale to go with this exquisite meal.” 

Sinbad smiled. Here, again, was just the opening he needed. 

~.~ 

Despite Harun’s words, the tale was perhaps not a good match for the meal. It was simply too fascinating, leaving him too distracted to notice the taste of the food or even often forgetting to continue eating. It was a waste of a fine meal, but it couldn’t be helped. The things Sinbad spoke of were simply too incredible. 

He started his story from running into Hinahoho and the rampaging unicorn, omitting Partevia and the fact that Imuchakk had been their destination to begin with. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a few cards in his hand. 

It was a story that worked well enough on its own — encountering Hinahoho and Pipirika, killing the rampaging unicorn, being allowed into Imuchakk as their guest, and then… 

“Have you heard of dungeons?” Sinbad asked. 

Most likely without even realizing it, Harun leaned forward with interest. “The mysterious buildings that have begun appearing over the world? The first was on the border between Partevia and Reim, wasn’t it? Ten thousand soldiers disappeared into it, but it’s rumored that a young boy was the one to conquer it and gain a great power.” 

“The rumors have really spread,” Sinbad noted. “I would have expected the Partevian government to try and keep what happened a secret or claim the credit for it.” 

“I’m sure they tried, but it’s the kind of story that fascinates anyone who hears it. Great structures, just appearing like that? There is no such magic in the modern age. The ordinary soldiers, the servants — all of them would have gossiped about it to their friends and families. Still, I can’t guess how much of it is true and how much is exaggerated,” Harun said. “Besides, there are legends.” 

“Legends?” 

“Of dungeons, long ago,” Harun said. “In many countries around the world, there are legends about a magic tower or a grand palace appearing by magic, and a hero venturing inside to gain divine power. On the eastern plateau, on the Aktia peninsula, back when it was unified, even here in Reim. They say the great general, Pernadius Alexius, was guided to a palace where he obtained the power of a great spirit, and that was how he led Reim into its age of great prosperity, two hundred years ago.” 

So it was like that. 

Sinbad had somewhat guessed it was like that, after meeting Alibaba, who conquered a dungeon in a faraway place that Sinbad hadn’t even heard of. 

The world was vast. Even something momentous could easily become lost on the roads between nations. So most likely, Baal’s dungeon had been another in a long line of legends like it. 

But at the very least, there had been no other dungeon conquerors in Partevia, or Reim, or Balbadd. And dungeons appearing everywhere all of a sudden were something strange and new. 

Something was changing in the flow. 

Nodding, Sinbad continued his story. “A dungeon appeared in Imuchakk,” he said, smiling as Harun clapped a hand against his leg. 

“I thought so,” the merchant murmured to himself, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “And? Did you… go inside?” 

Sinbad laughed. “That’s right! But it wasn’t just me…” 

There were certain things he needed to leave out — the Partevian group having been sent after him specifically, and also Alibaba’s involvement. He still didn’t know what his friend intended to do with his djinn’s power, so he would keep quiet for now. 

Even without those details, Harun listened with rapt attention. 

The mysterious dungeon scenery, the confrontation with assassins and magic, Hinahoho coming to the rescue, the Tran puzzle, and finally the treasure room, Valefor, and his test. 

“So that’s why!” Harun exclaimed. “Chief Rametoto acknowledged you because of the djinn’s power! I see, I see. After all, the Imuchakk have always respected strength.” 

His face was flushed with both emotion and drink, animated and lively. His earlier cool, detached manner had gradually worn away as the evening flew by. It was already late into the night, even Napolia’s lights beginning to scatter and sleep as the townspeople ended their day, but the staff did not disturb them, only silently and unobtrusively refilling their cups. The breeze coming from the open windows was pleasantly cool. 

Even knowing every twist and turn of the story, Sinbad had to admit he’d also gotten riled up. He was the kind of person who didn’t feel any pressure from having the eyes of others on him. Instead, it only gave him more energy as he instinctively moved to pull them along in his wake. 

Telling his own story to a willing audience was… pretty fun. 

But now that they had more or less reached the end of the tale, Sinbad recalled that there had been a purpose to it. His excitement and heart rate calmed, replaced by a different, cooler determination. 

“That was certainly part of it,” he replied. “But it wasn’t just claiming Valefor’s power that convinced Chief Rametoto. It was also because he chose to bet on my dream.” 

“Your dream?” Lacing his hands together, Harun leaned forward. 

It was still too early for Sinbad to try pulling anything over on him. Since Harun’s reasons for coming had not been malicious to begin with and his view of Sinbad was at least somewhat positive, he didn’t resist the direction of the conversation, but he didn’t miss the hook either. Smiling, he felt that the still slightly immature efforts of the boy in front of him were somewhat charming. 

“My dream — the reason I obtained the power of a djinn,” Sinbad confirmed grandly. “I will change the world.” 

The proclamation was so over the top that it should have provoked only laughter, and in any other situation Harun might well have laughed, though perhaps kindly, trying to keep a young boy’s feelings in mind. 

But the look in Sinbad’s eyes was too piercing and unrelenting, without a trace of youthful naivete. There was a mysterious power behind him, making it seem as if he really could control the path of the entire world. 

Letting out a low breath, Harun sat back and studied Sinbad. “That’s quite a dream.” 

“Is it strange?” Sinbad wondered. “Sir Harun, you’ve traveled widely. Surely you’ve seen it as well — the irrationality of this world. Wars without meaning claiming countless lives. Hunger and poverty devouring the people while the nobles gouge themselves. The struggle of anyone who wishes to change their circumstances. Being left without home or family or any means to survive. No matter where you are, these things exist.” 

In truth, Sinbad hadn’t been sure whether a wealthy merchant would have ever considered these things ‘injustice’ the way Sinbad’s group did. After all, they were all outcasts in some way. But he had a feeling. 

Harun’s expression dimmed, his eyes growing distant as he recalled something. 

“...Indeed. These things are inescapable,” he said. “No matter how prosperous the nation, no matter if the king exerts every effort...” 

Even Balbadd, as lively and full of opportunity as it was, had slums where people lived no better than the starving peasants in Partevia’s countryside. 

“There are always those who suffer,” Sinbad agreed. “And, worse, they have no recourse and nowhere to turn. They have no hope of change. That is... the most crushing. That is why the first thing I want to do is create a place for them. Anyone who has nowhere else, I want to bring them together.” 

“In your company?” Harun’s expression was unreadable, but... not dismissive or rejecting. 

“In a country,” Sinbad corrected. “My country, the country I will create with the power of a djinn.”

Several strong, complex emotions passed over the other man’s face. His lips thinned, showing real displeasure for the first time. But Sinbad had come too far to retreat — and he refused to, anyway. Not on this, his grand dream. 

“Those that receive a djinn’s power are called king vessels. And to employ the full power of a king, a country is necessary,” he pressed on. “To give people a place they can feel safe and build their lives without fear, a country is necessary. To have the influence necessary to change the world, a country is necessary. That is why I will create a country!” 

Drawing a sharp breath, Harun raised his head and glared. It was an expression unsuited to him, but it carried a surprising degree of cutting menace, enough that Sinbad had to fight down an instinctive cringe. 

“Do you think creating a country is something so simple?” Harun said sharply. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “The weight of ruling alone is more than an ordinary man can withstand, and you want to create a new kingdom without even the foundations of ancestors to fall back on? You truly are... still too immature.” 

With each word, his voice and his face became colder and colder, and the distance between them seemed to grow. 

He was being looked down on. 

Even so, Sinbad smiled. 

“That’s true,” he agreed. Sometimes, to strike back when attacked would give no benefit at all. “There are still too many things I lack. That’s why, right now, I can only create a company. But when Sindria’s name is known across the world, it will become the foundation of my dream!”

Harun’s gaze bore into him for a long moment, but the older man was the first to finally look away. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes. 

“How foolish...” he murmured. 

Unlike Rametoto, he did not believe in Sinbad so easily. However, he had not walked away either. The opportunity Sinbad sensed was still there. All he needed to do... 

“Then, why don’t I prove it to you?” 

...was seize it. 

“Oh?” Harun looked up. Whatever he saw in Sinbad’s calm, unwavering smile made his eyes narrow and, unexpectedly, he smiled back, thin and tight. “Indeed, why not?” 

Sinbad opened his mouth, ready to set the terms already forming in his mind, but the initiative was taken from him. 

“I will be traveling to Remano for diplomatic negotiations, lasting for about a month,” Harun said. “If you are so determined on this path... then make your Sindria known to everyone in Napolia while I am away. If the first thing I hear when I return is Sindria’s name, I will write you the recommendation letter.” He paused and chuckled dryly. “No... I may even become your ‘friend’.” 

He stood, hid demeanor and posture upright and graceful, completely different from anyone Sinbad had ever seen. A merchant going to diplomatic negotiations... 

Sinbad laughed. “What are you saying, Sir Harun? Didn’t we share stories and talk about our dreams? Aren’t we already friends?” 

He was rewarded with a twitch of Harun’s lips, the somber distance in his manner fading slightly. 

“And since we’re friends, perhaps Sir Harun could do me a favor,” Sinbad went on blithely. “If you are going to Remano...” 

~.~ 

“You didn’t have to, you know,” Alibaba said, as the two of them made their way toward Napolia’s northern gate. The wide paved street was bustling with not only people, but also a large number of carriages and wagons, carrying passengers and goods in and out of the city. 

The open space in front of the gate was where Sinbad had arranged to meet with Harun, before the older man departed toward the capital. 

“I think I did,” Sinbad said distractedly, looking around in search of his merchant ‘friend’ or his guards. “I can’t explain it, but I just have this feeling that, if I let you go by yourself, you’ll end up naked and without a copper to your name before you reach Remano. And my instincts are always right.” 

Alibaba choked, glaring at him in disbelief. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean? When did I ever... What kind of impression do you have of me?!” he protested. “Sin, you—!” 

“Oh, there he is!” Sinbad cut him off. Grinning widely, he waved to the small entourage gathered next to a surprisingly nondescript carriage. It seemed that, even when traveling, Harun was determined to be secretive about his identity. 

“Sin! What are you... you...” 

Strangely, Alibaba trailed off as he caught sight of Harun and his guards. His face paled and he pointed a shaking finger toward them. 

“Good morning, young Sinbad,” Harun greeted him mildly. “And this is your friend?” 

“That’s right. He’s headed to Remano too. Thank you for agreeing to take him,” Sinbad said. “I’ll feel much better knowing that he’s with—” 

“Your Majesty!” Alibaba burst out, cupping his hands and dropping to one knee. 

Harun’s eyebrows twitched. 

“Ah?” Sinbad made a sound of surprise. “Ah...? Your... Your Majesty?” 

The ship at the docks, bearing a flag and a coat of arms. Diplomatic negotiations. The list of trade union members, including... 

The 22nd king of Balbadd, Rashid Saluja. 

Who sometimes went by the alias ‘Harun’ — and currently failed to stifle a snicker at the sight of Sinbad’s gaping face. 

~.~ 


	12. Parted ways

~.~

**Chapter 9: Parted ways**

Uncomfortable. 

The carriage ride to Remano was the most uncomfortable experience of Alibaba’s life. 

Considering the twists and turns he had experienced — from the slums, to the palace, to traveling the desert with all its dangers, to Amon’s dungeon, to the past in another dimension — that was almost impressive. But mostly, it was really, really awkward. 

It would have been awkward no matter what. Most people wouldn’t feel comfortable hitching a ride with their king — and damn Sinbad’s careless self-confidence in making this happen. Although it was obvious that Sinbad hadn’t actually known whom he’d asked for a favor… But it was so much worse given that this was Alibaba’s dead father, except alive and a decade younger and completely unaware of Alibaba’s identity. 

“Harun” or rather King Rashid had studied Alibaba for a long, tense moment when he finally turned his attention from Sinbad to the friend he had agreed to take with him to Remano. It was possible he’d noticed the resemblance. But even if he did, he could only write it off as a coincidence in the end. There was no logical way for him to make sense of it, without the… time travel. 

Even if King Rashid felt that something was off, what could he do? 

Comforting himself in this way, Alibaba slowly calmed from terrified stiff to just very, very awkward. 

And finally, dared to sneak a glance at his temporary traveling companion. 

King Rashid looked young. That was expected, of course. This was more than a decade before his death and nearly as long before Alibaba even saw him for the first time. But the difference was exceptional. At that time, the king had already gone entirely gray and his face had been lined with deep wrinkles. He had looked like an old man. 

By comparison, the man across from Alibaba in the carriage still looked in the prime of life, beard and all. When he caught Alibaba sneaking another glance, King Rashid smiled. 

“You said your name is… Ali?” he said. “Young Sinbad mentioned that you are from Balbadd.” 

And hadn’t that been fun. Since Sinbad didn’t really know why Alibaba chose to hide his name sometimes, rather poorly and inconsistently, he naturally didn’t consider that this might be another instance for that. Alibaba had to cut him off rather obviously. 

Maybe there wasn’t even any point. It wasn’t that rare a name. And even if anyone ever connected it to his younger self, would they really guess ‘alternate dimension’ or ‘time travel’, whichever it was? 

“That, that’s right,” Alibaba cleared his throat. “Your Majesty.” 

He glanced over again. There was a considering sort of look on King Rashid’s face, and for a moment, Alibaba almost thought he’d ask something more about his background. Which family did he belong to? Which trade? Why was he in Reim? How did he run into Sinbad, a country bumpkin from Partevia? 

But what King Rashid asked was something else. 

“What do you think of him?” he asked. “Of his dream? Has he told you?” 

...Right. Of course. That would be the more important thing. After all, Sinbad was the only known dungeon conqueror and the one who had somehow gained King Rashid’s interest. 

“To create a country and change the world?” Alibaba confirmed, uncurling as he finally looked at King Rashid fully. “I think it’s amazing. I’m looking forward to seeing Sindria for myself.” 

“So you think he can accomplish it.” 

“He can. Because he’s Sinbad.” 

King Rashid sighed, but Alibaba didn’t know what else to say. He knew Sinbad would succeed — it was the future he’d lived. The high king of the seven seas and Sindria were just too momentous for them to somehow disappear just because of another dimension or his own presence. All of it would surely come to pass. 

More than that, Alibaba had seen Sinbad’s ability for himself now. Not just his exceptional ability to judge a situation, his skills and his calm, but also his fierce determination, his belief and his charisma. He had seen for himself how Sinbad persuaded Drakon, the assassins, Hinahoho — and even Rametoto, a seasoned chief. It wasn’t just the words he said. It was his entire demeanor, the sense of unshakeable certainty. 

No matter what, Sinbad would find a way. He would make the world acknowledge him and his dream. 

The man across from Alibaba would be no different. 

Thinking about it like that, there was no need for Alibaba to say anything else. Sinbad didn’t need anyone to advocate for him. He would prove his own worth and the strength of his conviction. 

It was impossible to say what King Rashid thought of this answer. He didn’t press for anything further, only turning to watch the passing scenery of the Reim countryside. The busy road from Napolia to Remano was well-paved and smooth, letting the carriage fly toward its destination. 

Watching his profile — the face of a man Alibaba had never thought he’d see alive again — it felt like there were a million things he wanted to ask. Was he already planning the matters of his succession? Why had he chosen Alibaba back then? Why had he taken him to the palace in the first place? Why...

But of course, the King Rashid in front of him couldn’t answer any of it. There was nothing for Alibaba to say to him either. They were just strangers with a mutual acquaintance and no other connection at all. 

The rest of the journey passed in silence. 

~.~ 

As a foreign dignitary, even one that hid his identity while traveling, King Rashid would have accommodations arranged for him in Remano, most likely in the area set aside specifically for diplomats and visiting heads of state. Considering this, Alibaba chose to separate from them at the gate, once they had passed the guards and inspections. 

“It’s a bit late to ask, but what kind of business do you have in Remano?” King Rashid said as Alibaba stepped out of the carriage. “If it’s something that can be completed within a month, we could return to Napolia together as well.” 

“Oh... I think it might take longer. I really don’t know,” Alibaba sighed. He wasn’t even sure whether he would head back to Napolia afterwards either, but that wasn’t something easy to explain. “Do you know anything about the High Priestess, Scheherazade? Do you know if there’s a way to gain an audience with her?” 

King Rashid’s brows rose in obvious and visible surprise. “The High Priestess?” he repeated. 

“It’s... about magic,” Alibaba said vaguely. 

Weighing this for a moment, King Rashid seemed to decide he didn’t want to get too involved — though judging by the flash of understanding that passed across his face, he had assumed it had to do with Sinbad’s djinn vessels. “Unfortunately, even I could not meet her easily,” he said. “The High Priestess is a very reclusive, revered figure. There are times when she appears — at major celebrations, or at the invitation of powerful figures — but I don’t know how you could enter those events either. I did hear she attends the colosseum at times, where the public can see her, but she only meets with the top gladiators.” 

Alibaba nodded slowly. It was about what he had expected — damn Yunan for not giving him a little more to go on. “Then, I might meet her if I do well in the colosseum?” he wondered. “I’m pretty good with a sword...” 

“You must not!” King Rashid said sharply, making Alibaba stare in surprise. 

He had never heard the man raise his voice before, not even when Alibaba flubbed his lessons, or angered his teachers, or the one time he unsuccessfully tried to scale the palace walls as a child — that had been the other King Rashid, of course. He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction to an ordinary comment. 

Clearing his throat, King Rashid explained, “You are still young. Don’t throw away your wellbeing or even your life in that kind of bloodsport. The matches are brutal. You could easily lose a limb or worse. It might seem like an opportunity, but rushing in could cost you all of your future prospects instead. It’s better if you take the time to look for a better, safer solution.” 

That... was not what Alibaba had expected. 

He had never realized that his father was this kind of person — someone who would earnestly warn a stranger out of concern. Who would help a boy like Sinbad even without sharing his dream. 

Clasping his hands, Alibaba bowed. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I will take your words to heart.” 

“That’s good,” King Rashid said, smiling. “You won’t be able to help Sinbad accomplish his dream if you sell your life too cheaply. I’m sure that’s not what he wishes for either.” 

It was easy to guess that he thought Alibaba was one of Sinbad’s subordinates. And it wasn’t surprising that he had come to that kind of misunderstanding. Everyone else traveling with Sinbad was like that, and Alibaba had spoken for him rather fervently. It was certainly easier than trying to explain any part of the truth. 

But... 

“Sin will accomplish his dream either way. I believe in him,” Alibaba said — and carefully unsheathed his dagger just enough to show the eight point star on the blade, “as a fellow dungeon conqueror.” 

Somehow, he couldn’t help wanting to show off a little. 

Without waiting to see King Rashid’s reaction, he stepped back from the carriage and hurried away, into the bustling crowds going to and from the gate. 

~.~ 

In the end, the colosseum was Alibaba’s only lead. 

Following King Rashid’s advice, he didn’t enter as a participant, but he managed to squeeze into one of the free events. The stands had been packed with cheering, excited citizens and even several figures of obviously high standing in the reserved seating areas. The gladiators down in the arena looked tiny from where Alibaba found a place, and at first, he paid more attention to the crowds and the colosseum itself than the battle that had begun in the pit. 

It didn't look like Lady Scheherazade was in attendance, though he supposed she would have been on the same balcony as a lavishly dressed elderly man with a contingent of guards in gold armor — a senator. 

"Ooooh!"

A gasp and cheer swept through the audience, making Alibaba turn back to the arena. 

At first, he couldn't make out what had happened — the seats were so far away. One of the gladiators was prone on the ground, his sword lying out of reach. It looked like it was over, but no one was calling the match and no one was celebrating a victory. The emotion in the air was more like... anticipation. 

"...Finish him off!" someone shouted, their voice carrying through the air. 

A roar of approval followed. 

"Kill him! Do it!"

"Blood! Blood! Blood!" 

"What?!" Alibaba wondered, looking around frantically, but his exclamation was completely drowned out. The faces in the stands next to him looked almost alien and inhuman in their glee — their bloodlust. 

King Rashid had been completely right calling it a bloodsport. 

Down in the arena, the winner raised his sword and brought it down again. It was too far to see the blood, but Alibaba could imagine it. 

Traveling the desert, he'd had to fight off bandits enough times that he was no stranger to taking a life — when necessary. Sometimes it was kill or be killed. But this was different. It was so unnecessary. How could people enjoy watching someone's life end? And it was even worse for the gladiators who were slaves and didn't have a choice about participating. 

There were admittedly some events that pitted participants against animals or obstacle courses, instead of each other. Alibaba would have considered those... but one of the rules was that only the colosseum-supplied equipment could be used. That meant he would have to leave Amon's dagger behind. 

His royal swordplay might have been enough for bandits and the likes of Jamil, but Alibaba wasn't going to stake his life on it unless he had no other choice. 

He had a djinn's power, and he was going to use it. 

It took almost two weeks before the High Priestess appeared at the colosseum. But when she did, her presence was unmistakable. Not just from the murmurs of the crowd and the faces turned toward her instead of the match, but also something unseen in the air. 

Gripping Amon's hilt tightly, Alibaba looked at her and concentrated his magoi. He didn't shape any attack or even just call out flames, but he didn't look away either. 

Soon Scheherazade turned to look back. Even across the distance, he could tell. 

A skilled warrior or hunter — or assassin — could feel eyes lingering on them, even without hostile intent. If she was a great magician, it stood to reason that Lady Scheherazade would be sensitive to magic as well. 

Letting his hand drop and his magoi settle, Alibaba looked away. Without waiting for the battles to conclude, he slipped out of the stands. 

However, he didn't leave the colosseum itself, lingering in the passageways. Had that been obvious enough? But hopefully it hadn't been too aggressive either. It wasn't his intention to seem threatening, after all... It would be fine once he explained, right? 

Before Alibaba could work himself up too much, someone — the someone sent by Lady Scheherazade — approached. 

It was a boy with hair as bright crimson as Morgiana's, but his eyes were a vivid gold, under almost comically furrowed brows. He looked at Alibaba for a long, awkward moment, apparently as unsure of the whole situation as he was. 

"Please follow me... sir," he said finally. "The High Priestess has requested your presence." 

His tone made it clear he did not understand why. 

Alibaba could only shrug — mentally. Outwardly, he maintained a calm demeanor to the best of his abilities. "Lead the way," he told the boy, nodding as regally and mysteriously as he could. 

After another long, searching look, the red-haired boy turned and led the way deeper into the colosseum’s internal structure. It was more complex than Alibaba had realized, with not just passages to the stands but an entire underground complex. The dull, distant roar of the crowd reverberated through the stone ceiling and walls as they passed under the arena, the fights still ongoing. Servants, slaves, guards and even a few smaller beasts hurried past them to prepare and coordinate the day’s spectacles, but no one tried to stop them, their eyes quickly darting to the boy’s hair and then the emblem stitched onto his clothing. 

Finally, they emerged into a sunlit, open passage again and headed into the annex building behind the most prestigious seating area. The golden-armored guards saluted as they passed. 

The High Priestess was waiting in a large hall deep inside the building. As Alibaba and the boy stepped inside, she gestured to the servants and the guards, sending them out. 

“Muu, thank you. That will be all,” she said. 

The boy, Muu, glanced at Alibaba again, his mouth twisting rebelliously, but he didn’t dare to protest. After a moment, he bowed in acknowledgement. “I will be just outside, Lady Scheherazade,” he said. 

As soon as the heavy doors shut behind him, before Scheherazade could say a word, Alibaba cupped his hands and kneeled. “My apologies for contacting you in such a crude manner, Lady Scheherazade,” he said quickly. “Yunan suggested that I speak with you, but I couldn’t think of another way to arrange a meeting. Please, I need your wisdom!” 

Scheherazade’s eyebrows rose. 

“Well,” she said finally. “I suppose I can hardly turn you away now.”

~.~ 

Scheherazade’s eyebrows continued to climb as Alibaba spoke, explaining the entire story from his perspective. Amon, Sinbad, Yunan, even Valefor — and especially Yunan’s hypothesis. Once he had finished, the High Priestess remained silent for a long time. Her eyes, which had opened during the retelling, looked into the distance as she thought over everything she had heard. 

Alibaba waited nervously, his hands clasped together tightly in his lap. 

“I understand Yunan’s reasoning,” she said, breaking the silence. “There is no magic for traveling through time. The Great Flow contains memories, but it can only move ever onward. Even something like seeing the future is impossible, much less physically traveling to the past. There are simply no commands you could give to the rukh to achieve this effect. Compared to that, other dimensions do exist and traveling to them should be possible..."

"But it would be hard to do, right?" Alibaba guessed from her tone. 

Scheherazade nodded. "Dungeons are a special case. I can use all types of rukh, but I don't know what formula might allow you to travel to another world. But... it's the only logical possibility for what you're saying occurred."

In other words... "You don't know how I can get back either." 

"It is not a magic of the modern age," Scheherazade said. Her expression was painfully sympathetic. Faced with a girl even younger than Aladdin, Alibaba didn't have the heart to blame her for something that was in no way her fault. With a heavy sigh, he hung his head. 

Was it really impossible? 

He still hadn't been able to fulfill his promise to Aladdin, and Ahbmad had made such a mess of Balbadd. Even if Alibaba had run away, even if he was unfit as a king, he still couldn't just leave his country in such a state. He had to get back. 

Surely if he had come to the past somehow, there had to be a way to return as well. 

"If only I could ask Amon," he muttered. 

The fire djinn had been able to open a new gate back from his dungeon. If anyone would know something, it would surely be Amon. 

"Ah," Scheherazade made a soft sound, drawing Alibaba out of his thoughts. She smiled, her eyes making happy crescents. "Now that I can provide. May I see your metal vessel?" 

Pulling Amon’s dagger out of his sash, Alibaba held it out to her across the low table between them — respectfully, with both hands. But when Scheherazade reached out one small, thin hand, she didn’t pick up the dagger. Her fingers only lightly touched the surface of the sheath, making the eight point seal on it shine brightly. 

Something big and blue and completely impossible rose out of the metal vessel. 

Ugo — Alibaba thought instinctively, remembering Aladdin’s friend inside the metal flute. But it wasn’t. It was another djinn altogether. 

“Greetings, magi,” Amon greeted Scheherazade respectfully. He bowed down from where his head had nearly brushed the ceiling of the hall, shrinking and looming over the two humans. Scheherazade inclined her head in acknowledgement. 

“Amon! You’re here!” Alibaba exclaimed in surprise. “But... how?” 

“Is that not obvious?” Amon sighed, sounding just as displeased as Alibaba remembered. “I have always been in the metal vessel that connects us.” One giant, long-nailed finger pointed to the dagger. “And now, with the magi’s power, I am able to temporarily take form again.” 

“Magi? Like Aladdin?” Alibaba repeated, glancing at Scheherazade, who smiled and nodded. “Wait. Yunan said he’s a magi too, didn’t he? Then why didn’t he just—?!” 

If it was a magi's ability to bring out a djinn like this, then why didn't Yunan just bring out Amon himself, when he interrogated Alibaba back in Partevia? Speaking to Amon should have been the solution from the start! 

There was a strange twist at the corner of Scheherazade's mouth, both sympathetic and amused. "I also do not understand that person's motivations at all," she admitted. "Even after two hundred years, he is still a mystery to me. Maybe he wanted to see what you would do..."

T-two hundred years....? 

Forget it. 

With a heavy sigh, Alibaba, who had jumped to his feet in surprise, dropped back down onto the divan. 

More importantly... Suddenly very stiff in his seat, Alibaba snuck a glance up at Amon. Did the djinn remember the whole business with using his great power for food delivery? Amon looked down at him with a deeply judgemental look. He remembered. Alibaba looked away quickly, sweat pouring down his back. 

“Amon, do you know anything more than what Sir Alibaba remembers?” Scheherazade asked. “Is that really what happened?” 

“Indeed,” Amon replied, stroking his white beard thoughtfully. “My last memory is also of sending him, Lord Aladdin, and the Red Lion girl out of my dungeon, after someone had tried to close the gate from the other side. But I can’t imagine why this outcome occurred. The gate I created was perfectly functional. At most, it might have separated them, or landed them somewhere other than the original location.” 

“Does, does that mean... you don’t know what happened either?” Alibaba wondered, staring at the djinn in mounting horror. 

“That is the case,” Amon admitted. “...My apologies.” 

“So you... can’t send me back?!” 

“I cannot.” 

“B... but...” Slowly, Alibaba shook his head. “Why?! Can’t you at least try?” 

As a djinn of decorum, Amon did not lose his composure easily, and even in this situation, he remained stoically calm. But his contrision was obvious, as he closed his eyes and remained silent for a long moment. 

“I will not,” he said quietly but firmly. “The connection between Alma Torran and this world is a special case. The two are inherently linked by the dungeon system and their shared past. And even then, only Uraltago and the Sacred Palace could create something like that. Another dimension entirely? It would take the power equal to the rukh of every living being to rip open a path in the first place, and there is no telling where you would end up. The chance of it being the dimension we came from is just too small.” 

Several emotions flashed across Alibaba’s face, each one strong and only half-formed as he tried to reject what he was being told. 

Blankly, he looked between Scheherazade and Amon, but there was nothing else either of them could say. 

“Then... what am I supposed to do?” 

There was no answer. 

Amon’s form scattered back into rukh and vanished as Alibaba’s hands clenched around his metal vessel. He stood abruptly, making the divan skitter back with a loud groan. Scheherazade raised her hand, only to hesitate before reaching out, her expression still that same look of painful sympathy. 

Without another word, Alibaba turned and fled, ignoring the protests of the guards outside. 

~.~ 

Alibaba spent the next several days in a mindless daze, holing up in his inn room and barely forcing himself out of bed to retrieve the meals left by his door — even though they remained more than half uneaten in the end. It was even more pathetic than even his worst moments in the past, but what could he do? 

...What could he do, really? 

He needed to get back to Balbadd, to Aladdin and Morgiana. There were still so many things he needed to do. He had finally worked up the courage to do more than wander the desert as a lowly caravan driver, eyeing Amon's dungeon with greed and fear, and yet, now, he still couldn't do anything. Were all of his promises and wishes really going to remain at loose ends, forever unresolved? 

He hated it. He hated all of this. He couldn't accept it. 

And yet, what choice did he have, when two magi and two djinn had told him there was nothing to be done? 

What choice... He didn't have a choice at all. 

Alibaba knew that, eventually, he would need to pull himself together, get up and decide what he would do from here on out. His situation wasn't dire by any means. If nothing else, he could go back to Balbadd, still safe under King Rashid's rule. He could help this younger version of his mom, he could look for Cassim and Mariam, he could get to better the situation in the slums. He could use his investments to create his own company like he always idly dreamed. He could even take up Sinbad on his offer and join the fledgling Sindria. 

He could do any of that and more. He just needed to pull himself together — and that part was escaping him. 

Until a loud, persistent knocking on his door dragged him out of his stupor. 

It was far too heavy to be the conscientious inn staff, even making the wooden door rattle on its hinges. And the voice that called out from the other side was strident and military, and familiar. "Sir Ali, our lord Harun wishes to relay a message — we will be departing in two days from the southeast gate. You are free to journey back to Napolia with us." 

It was Barkak. Alibaba had noticed him among King Rashid's entourage before and had to make an effort not to stare at the younger version of his swordsmanship instructor. Just from his tone, Alibaba could tell the future general did not approve of his king extending such an offer to some stranger of unknown origins, but he was far too loyal to neglect his duties or speak out. 

Alibaba, who had been sitting blankly by the window, nearly tripped over himself stumbling to his feet. 

Frantically, he looked down at himself — only half dressed, a mess all around, unclear when last washed — and quickly decided it would be better not to open the door. He didn’t think he would be able to withstand the judgemental look he’d receive. 

“Y-yes!” he called out. “Thank you! I’ll be there!” 

There was a long, very judging pause. “...Very well,” Barkak pronounced, somehow making two very simple words sound like a threat. 

After the sound of his footsteps finally faded away, Alibaba let himself drop back onto the chair he’d dragged askew, letting out a long, heavy breath. 

Two days... Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot for him to get ready. He would only need to pack his few belongings and settle the rest of his month’s payment to the inn. Ah, it might be good to try and send a message to Lady Scheherazade, in case she was worried about what he might do... 

“Better get started...” Alibaba murmured to himself, ruffling his hair — only to pause and grimace. 

But first, a bath. Definitely a bath. 

In the end, he was fortunately able to find that red-haired boy, Muu, training at one of the upper class gymnasia scattered across the capital. It turned out he was well-known as an heir to the Alexius family, descendants of a famous general who had led Reim to its golden age two hundred years prior. After a bit of groveling and accepting some rebukes for rudeness toward the High Priestess, Muu finally agreed to take a message to Scheherazade. 

“I’m grateful, truly,” Alibaba told him. “Thank you again.” 

Muu huffed, shooting him a sulky side-eyed glare that was also very much like Morgiana, despite the difference in eye color and the finer features from his mixed bloodline. “Why... why did Lady Scheherazade agree to see someone like you to begin with? I don’t understand what makes you so special,” he muttered. 

“There isn’t anything,” Alibaba admitted easily. “It’s because of... a person I know, that’s all.” Yunan, Amon, Aladdin... he meant all of them, in some way. 

He was just an ordinary person. This whole business with crossing time and dimensions was completely beyond him. Thinking of it like that, he supposed it was no surprise he couldn’t find a way back. 

He was just an ordinary person, so all he could do was try his best. 

“Is that really true?” Muu wondered. “Lady Scheherazade was very worried about you.” His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t we have a spar?” 

“No way,” Alibaba said immediately. 

Spar? If Muu’s strength was anything like Morgiana’s, Alibaba would be lucky to escape with just a few broken bones, especially if he didn’t rely on Amon. Muu looked furious and scandalized, his mouth dropping open at such a blatant refusal. Forgoing pride and also decorum, Alibaba all but ran off the training field. 

When he met up with the Balbadd delegation two days later, King Rashid needed only one look at him to know that things had not gone well. His expression unexpectedly softened a fraction with sympathy. 

“You were unable to gain an audience with the High Priestess?” he guessed. “It’s a difficult task, so you shouldn’t be discouraged.” 

“No, I met her,” Alibaba smiled awkwardly. “It just didn’t help. So there’s no point in staying here.” Seeing King Rashid’s look of surprise, he rushed to change the subject. “And Your Majesty’s business? Was it successful?” 

There was a pause just long enough to let him know that the older man hadn’t missed what he was doing, but King Rashid didn’t press the matter. “It was just an annual conference, where various matters among Reim’s trading partners are announced,” he said. “Right now, the situation in the greater region is stable. Although there are some movements in the east that Reim is monitoring closely, it will be years before any action will be taken.” 

In the east? That would probably be the Kou. Had their original three kingdoms unified into a single nation yet? 

Had they started to implement the Fan? 

If... If Alibaba was going to remain in this world, what should he do about his future knowledge, vague as it was? 

He supposed there wasn’t any need to worry. An ordinary person like him didn’t have the ability to change fate. Even if a stone was thrown into the water, the ripples would calm and fade before long, and a single drop into the ocean could hardly change the tides. Whether he said anything or did anything wouldn’t really matter. 

“I heard,” he said slowly, “that one of the countries in the east was planning to implement paper money. What do you think of that?” 

“Paper money? Something like bank notes, but issued by the government?” King Rashid said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The concept is simple enough, but it is something only a country with high standing and reliability could do. Otherwise, there is too much potential for inflation, and currency exchange for trade or travel would become problematic.” 

Alibaba nodded along in agreement. “And using it in another country...” 

“Which ruler would agree to that?” King Rashid huffed in amusement and exasperation. “It’s simply not viable. I haven’t heard of any country attempting it, in fact. Which one did you hear of?” 

“It was just a rumor, but it should have been... Kou?” Alibaba said. 

King Rashid made a thoughtful sound. 

But come to think of it... where  _ did  _ Alibaba hear about it? 

...In Balbadd. 

Something, he realized, his stomach twisting slowly with unease, wasn’t quite right. 

~.~ 

“I never did ask,” King Rashid mused as they finally approached Napolia at the end of their month-long journey, “do you have a dream as well?” 

“Me?” Alibaba asked in surprise, looking away from the carriage window. 

“You are a dungeon conqueror like Sinbad,” the older man said. “He wants to use the power he received to create a kingdom and change the world. But what about you? From his tale, it sounded like a dungeon is something you can only overcome with a great purpose. So you must also have some reason you sought out the djinn.” 

Alibaba laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Would you believe if I said I did it for money?” 

"Money?" King Rashid's eyes widened almost comically. 

"The place at the end of the dungeon is called a treasury — because it's full of incredible treasure! I wanted to go to a dungeon because I wanted to get rich!"

Pursing his lips and turning aside, King Rashid tried to hold it in, but it was futile in the end. He burst out laughing, throwing back his head and slapping his knee repeatedly. "You... haha," he struggled to speak through his laughter, "you are indeed a citizen of my Balbadd!" 

To be a citizen of that Balbadd, still a polished jewel of the southern seas... wouldn't be a terrible thing. Awkwardly, Alibaba smiled back. 

It wouldn't be so bad, right? 

He had to start thinking about the future. He had to accept reality. 

Alibaba had planned to separate from the Balbadd delegation as soon as they entered Napolia, in the open area just past the gates, and head to the Sindria Company to settle things with Sinbad. But to his surprise, the city streets were even more crowded than previously, forcing the carriage and the accompanying guards to a crawl. 

"It's quite lively," King Rashid noted. 

Peering out the window, Alibaba said, "It looks like they're all going in the same direction. Why don't I go check it out?" 

When he slipped out of the carriage, King Rashid followed. "I'm curious as well," he said, waving down the aborted protests from his guards. "It's good to stretch my legs after such a long trip. Most likely, there's some event or a new shop drawing in crowds..." 

As they let themselves be carried along by the crowd, it became apparent that his first guess was correct. A simple wooden stage had been set up not far from the gate, facing the wide central road. People were gathered around it in a tight half circle, chattering excitedly. It seemed the show was just about to start. 

"Ladies and gentlemen! Good citizens of Napolia! One and all!" 

The crowd quieted as a young, strong voice called out in greeting. It was a very familiar voice, making Alibaba and King Rashid, watching from the sidelines, exchange a look. 

"Welcome to a tale of adventure and wonder! Welcome to the legend of the dungeon conqueror, Sinbad!" 

And, in a flash, that dungeon conqueror himself appeared atop the stage. 

It was clear from the audience’s reaction, deafening and full of heated expectation, that this was not Sinbad’s first time performing. They knew what they were about to hear, and they were looking forward to it. Sinbad’s smile was calm and confident as he looked across the crowd and raised Baal’s sword aloft, fine lightning dancing along the blade. 

“This is the story of one boy,” he began, “who braved the mysterious place that devoured ten thousand men. The dungeon of Baal! To step inside was to travel to another world, raised up by a pillar of light. And on the other side... was the realm of dragons, for Baal is a dragon djinn!” 

The crowd’s cheers almost drowned out King Rashid’s confused murmur of “Baal?” This was the story of Sinbad’s first dungeon, which Alibaba had only read of. Some parts had come up when he and Sinbad compared notes and tried to imagine what they needed to expect from Valefor, but a lot of it was completely new, not even included in the written version years down the line. 

Smiling, he listened with growing excitement. 

Sinbad’s delivery was still a little rough in places, but his natural charisma easily kept everyone’s attention on him and moved them along at his pace. His grand gestures would have looked ridiculous without his confidence, but the audience followed every movement. 

“Sinbad! Sinbad!” 

“I look forward to meeting all of you — in Sindria!” Sinbad called out as his story came to an end. Both praise and coins, as well as an assortment of bright flowers, rained onto the stage, nearly hiding him from sight. It was a spectacle almost on the level of a parade, and a squad of guards waited nearby to control the crowds. 

However, there was nothing else they could do. In Reim, street performances did not require any license or permission, since entertaining the citizens was a key promise of the empire. As long as Sinbad did not say anything that could be considered treasonous — and he carefully excluded the most direct mentions of being a “king” — he was free to do as he pleased, even to the extent of performing magic in the open. 

Chuckling, King Rashid shook his head. “So this is the solution he came up with,” he said. “Very well, I will admit my loss.” 

“Loss?” Alibaba echoed with interest. 

“We made a bet,” King Rashid explained, “before I left, that he would make his Sindria known to everyone in Napolia while I was away. If the first thing I heard when I returned was Sindria’s name, I would write him a recommendation letter for the trade union... and become his ally in the future.” 

Considering this, Alibaba thought that this would indeed almost certainly count as Sinbad’s win, despite the somewhat vague and symbolic victory conditions. “But you know, he probably chose this location specifically because you’d be returning through this gate,” he pointed out. 

“Most likely,” King Rashid agreed. Despite this, he seemed quite pleased. “I’ve learned not to underestimate you dungeon conquerors. Impossible doesn’t exist for you!” 

Wait. How did Alibaba get included in there? 

“Sir Haruuun! Alibabaaaa!” Sinbad called out, squeezing his way through the crowd toward them. Although sweaty and clearly worn from the performance, he was brimming with energy. “Did you hear? It was the first thing, right?” Grinning smugly, he puffed out his chest in expectation of praise. 

“I’d say the first thing was your name, not Sindria’s though,” Alibaba said. 

“Guh!” Sinbad flinched. “It’s close enough! Sindria’s name is like my name! They’re one and the same! Kind of! Sir Harun, that’s fine, right? Right?” 

King Rashid did his utmost to maintain an unreadable facade and make Sinbad squirm a moment longer, but in the end, he couldn’t help giving himself away. His lips curled in an amused smirk, and he finally nodded. “It’s fine,” he confirmed. “I will prepare the recommendation letter for you.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Sinbad cheered, looking for once his age. 

Everything was going perfectly. He had been able to generate incredible popularity and anticipation for his company as well as earn additional capital, and the membership issue would be settled shortly, just in time for Hinahoho and the others to return with an additional shipment of goods. The Sindria Trading Company was all but ready to open its doors. 

For once, there was no need for him to act wise and mature. He could just enjoy himself fully. 

Smiling, Alibaba reached out before he thought better of it and ruffled Sinbad’s already messy hair. “Congratulations! You did it!” 

“I did it!” Sinbad exclaimed — and, laughing, swept Alibaba up in a messy, sweaty hug. 

~.~ 

True to his word, Rashid didn’t waste time providing the recommendation letter and even accompanied Sinbad to the trade union office to complete the registration process. “It’s only natural,” he said, smiling, “to help a ‘friend’ with such a small matter.” 

Sinbad had already made arrangements for Sindria Company’s office and warehouse, as well as a storefront, and the provisions to the restaurant had more or less run out as well. The rest of his company, such as it was, would return in about a month, leaving him with some time on his hands. 

His intention had been to use that time to weedle some business advice out of Alibaba and Rashid. Sinbad understood better than anyone that he had a lot to learn in preparation for actually running his company. He was about to enter a battlefield he knew far too little about. However, things didn’t quite work out that. 

Rashid was amenable enough. But he unexpectedly added on something else too. 

“You should do a performance at the amphitheater,” he said. “You’ll be able to earn even more funds for your company, and the degree of acclaim is different as well. Unlike the streets, the theater can draw in nobles and even elected officials.” 

Sinbad hummed in acknowledgement. “Alibaba suggested writing it down,” he said. 

In fact, the storytelling was just something he thought up to fulfill his bet with Rashid and maybe garner some additional publicity for his company. But it seemed to have more potential than he had expected. 

“Oh, that’s quite a fine idea as well,” Rashid said, stroking his beard. “This and the method with the Octavium restaurant... your friend has a good business sense.” 

“He does!” Sinbad agreed cheerfully. “Want to recruit him?” 

“So you haven’t already,” the older man noted. “He told me as much, but I was wondering whether he would continue helping you all the same.” 

“He said he had something else to do, so he headed out,” Sinbad said. 

Although he put on an unconcerned front, he had been a little taken aback when Alibaba told him he’d be leaving Reim shortly, to head across the sea — with no clear explanation of when or whether they would next meet. It was only natural, in a way. Sinbad knew Alibaba had his own matters, unexplained as they were, but somehow, he had gotten used to having him around, or else soon to reunite again. 

Becoming a dungeon conqueror, he had gained not only a djinn’s power but also a companion he could count on. It was a state of affairs Sinbad... rather enjoyed, looking back on it. 

Someone he wasn’t responsible for, but who wasn’t a distant ally with a complicated agenda of their own... 

Most likely, they would meet again. There was Miss Anise in Balbadd, after all, where Sinbad himself would return before long to visit his mother. Their path would surely cross again. 

But just as certainly, they were slowly diverging. 

Because they were both king vessels? Or... 

Until then, Sinbad had taken a policy of not pressing for answers. He couldn’t miss the many strange points about Alibaba and the gaps in his story, but he could also tell that he wasn’t someone with malicious intentions. He had thought keeping quiet was the best way to respect Alibaba’s circumstances. 

However, that guy... 

“He looked out of it, when he came back,” Sinbad muttered. 

“Indeed,” Rashid agreed. “Something about his business in Remano did not go well.” 

‘His business’ — the same mysterious business he had with Valefor? What had it been...? 

“When he gets back,” whether to Reim or to Balbadd, “I’ll ask him about it,” Sinbad decided. “I’ll make it clear he has my support, just as he’s supported me.” 

“A fellow dungeon conqueror would make a strong ally,” Rashid agreed. “Or a strong subordinate, if you can manage that.” 

Sinbad smiled and didn’t correct him. 

Between a subordinate who followed him and an ally that remained at a distance, Sinbad didn’t feel that either option was quite right. Among all the people around him, Alibaba was unique. In a way, he was Sinbad’s first real friend. A friend he wanted to keep at his side, there was a word for that. 

It would probably be... a partner.    
  


~.~


	13. Magic

~.~

**Chapter 10: Magic**

Of the three leads Yunan had given Alibaba back in Parthevia, there was still one left. 

The magic academy in Musta’sim. 

After this, Alibaba really would have no choice but to accept it. But, conversely, until he confirmed every dead end, he wouldn’t give up. With this decision in mind, he decided upon his destination and departed from Napolia, across the sea. 

In his own time, he had never heard of a Musta'sim Kingdom, although he thought there might have been some distant rumors of a magic school to the west. Asking around a bit easily yielded an answer, however. 

Musta’sim Kingdom — a small nation in the northeast of the Aktia Peninsula. Once in the distant past, the entire peninsula had been one kingdom, and the region shared deep cultural roots, but in the centuries since, the borders had been redrawn countless times, as well as suffering outside invasions and occupation. Because of this, Alibaba’s knowledge of the exact borders and geography was rather lacking as a whole. What he remembered most clearly from his lessons was the ongoing and seemingly unresolvable pirate issue when sailing past the peninsula toward the western continent. 

Looking at a fairly recent map, there were nearly a dozen kingdoms just like Musta’sim wedged together. The only notable thing was that Musta’sim had retained its borders and rule for a century already — a rarity for these small nations always in flux. 

The reason for that was their magicians. 

In most places, magicians were feared and shunned for their abilities. As a result, they lived in hiding, avoiding contact with ordinary people — if they survived both persecution and their own uncontrolled powers, that is. 

Although there were rare cases where a magician would be able to gain the patronage and protection of a ruler, temporarily securing their position in exchange for their services, like Parthevia’s court magician Falan, Musta’sim’s case was unique in that they had made use of an entire group. And, over time, that group of magicians had combined their knowledge and become a formidable support for the kingdom. 

From that, a ‘magic academy’ had been born. 

That was Alibaba’s final destination. 

Entering the kingdom posed no difficulty, and the hardest part of the journey was the attempted pirate raid the day before they arrived at Musta’sim’s largest port, but the raiders were easily driven off with swordplay and a bit of fire. Alibaba had intended to claim that he was simply using a magic tool, but to his surprise, no one asked about his display, only shooting him sometimes sympathetic, sometimes understanding looks. 

...Ah. There were probably a lot of lost magicians coming to this place in search of comrades and a refuge. 

It was a convenient excuse, so he didn’t correct them. The port town’s citizens pointed him toward the academy nearly without prompting. 

As could be expected, the academy was located within the country’s capital, only about a day’s journey on foot from the port. Walking down what should have been a major thoroughfare but was still just particularly wide unpaved dirt path, Alibaba studied the passing countryside with a frown. 

The fields were full of lush greenery, fruit heavy on the vine. And yet, to Alibaba’s untrained eye, the soil looked the opposite of fertile, dry and colorless. The huts he could see scattered around were in no better shape, the walls riddled with cracks and the roofs barely holding together. It seemed no better than the situation in Sinbda’s home village back in Parthevia, but that made no sense if their crops were flourishing. 

There was no one in sight tending the fields. 

Once he reached the capital, at least, the scenery became more familiar. The style of the heavy, square stone buildings was very different from Balbadd and even Reim, but the division of slums, middle class, rich and even noble areas was easy to identify. Citizen — the poor, the servants, the merchants, and a rare noble — moved down the streets on their daily business. 

“Ah, you’re looking for the magicians?” a shopkeeper said, his expression brightening. “Of course, of course, we owe so much to the magicians. It’s because of them that Musta’sim can flourish! Our crops, our goods, everything is made by them. They even protect us from war and disasters.” 

“All that?” Alibaba said in honest wonder. “There’s something I’d like to ask for their help with too.” 

The shopkeeper smiled a little strangely. “Well, I wonder whether the magicians will have time to help an outsider. Those damn nobles already keep so much of the magic for themselves...” 

There were indeed ornate noble carriages coming and going through the main entrance to the magic academy, which was a complex no smaller than Balbadd’s royal palace. The central building was marked by distinctive twin towers, with many smaller buildings likely for dormitories and classrooms scattered around it. The grounds were full of both children and adults in black robes and distinctive pointed hats. Each one carried a staff of some sort. 

Alibaba tried to imagine Aladdin, with his turban and traditional desert clothing, in the magicians’ outfit. 

“Pffft!” Snickering to himself and shaking his head, he tried to flag a passing pair of students to ask for directions. 

~.~

It took some time to find someone who would speak with him. The younger magicians — the students — all shied away from Alibaba, until someone who introduced herself as an instructor stepped forward. She too eyed him distrustfully from behind her red glasses — or was that some kind of mask? 

“We pride ourselves on being the foremost institution of magic in the world,” Instructor Myers said, once he explained his purpose. “In matters of magic, if there are answers to be found, you will find them there. However... our duty is to the kingdom first. Unless you have something worthwhile to offer in exchange...” 

That was fair, and Alibaba had already considered the matter. After all, he couldn’t expect everyone to help him just because, like Yunan and Scheherazade had. 

“Perhaps an exchange of knowledge could benefit both sides,” he said. 

And, before Instructor Myers could voice the doubt that crossed her expression, he drew Amon’s vessel and let his magoi flow through it, extending down his arms. As the dagger transformed into a greatsword, Alibaba easily flourished it and smiled at Myers. 

“I think this power of a djinn might be of interest to your academy,” he suggested mildly. “Do you agree?” 

He let the partial Equip fade away quickly, but his point had been made. To Alibaba, what he had shown was actually not particularly impressive. A weapon equip was more than just a bigger sword and some flames, but he still felt that the rumored accomplishments of the magic academy were far more impressive. 

Being able to ward off a famine, wasn’t that far more worthwhile? 

However, as a magician, Myers must have been able to see more to it than that. There must have been something more to a djinn’s power that he couldn’t perceive himself. Her face pale, she had hurried away to call their headmaster to speak with him. 

Matal Mogamett. 

The man whose office he was guided to was easily old enough to be a grandfather, if not a great-grandfather, his hair and beard all long since gone completely white. Although his demeanor was also grandfatherly, there seemed to be a certain coldness in his gaze. 

“Welcome to our magic academy,” Headmaster Mogamett greeted him. “So you are the rumored dungeon conqueror... It is an honor to have such an honored personage at our humble school.” 

Alibaba quickly waved his hands. “I’m not anyone special,” he said. “It’s true that I was chosen by a djinn, but I’m probably not the one you’re thinking off. And I think your academy is far more amazing. Bringing together so many magicians... I have a friend who would love to come here.” 

If the Musta’sim academy still existed a decade and a half in the future, he would have liked to bring Aladdin there. Even though he was a magi, Aladdin hadn’t had any of the same confidence in his abilities as Yunan and Scheherazade. He hadn’t even know what a magi was until Amon explained it. Thinking about the kind of kid Aladdin was, he would love to play around with magic and learn from other magicians. 

...Probably he would also love to pull some pranks using it. 

Mogamett steepled his hands, watching Alibaba closely. “Your friend is a magician?” he guessed. 

“That’s right. He’s only a kid, but I would have been a goner without him, when we were in Amon’s dungeon,” Alibaba said. “Unfortunately, we ended up getting separated. I’ve been looking for a way to meet up with him again.” 

Perhaps it was just Alibaba’s imagination, but the air seemed to warm slightly. “We would love to have him here. In future, please bring him. Our academy will always welcome all magicians and give them a home.” 

Alibaba smiled awkwardly. “I will, if I can.” Clearing his throat, he quickly changed the subject. “The reason I came here because there are some matters regarding magic I am investigating. And in exchange, I can offer information about dungeons, djinn and their powers. How does that sound to you, Headmaster?” 

Mogamett hummed thoughtfully as Alibaba laid Amon’s vessel onto the polished wooden table between them. The eight point star sigil glimmered faintly in the light from the tall windows behind the headmaster. 

His wrinkled hands were extremely careful as he touched the dagger. Something seemed to flutter in the air, gone before Alibaba could make it out clearly. 

“I admit, I’m very curious about the nature of the dungeons and those that overcome them,” Mogamett said. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why don’t we have a long talk, Sir Alibaba? Would you like some tea?” 

~.~ 

Dungeons — mysterious buildings of unknown origin that appeared without warning throughout history. Countless dangers lurked within, from impossible terrain, incomprehensible traps, unknown monsters and, most of all, the dungeon master, the djinn. But if one was able to conquer a dungeon, they would be acknowledged as a person who could overturn fate and the world, gaining vast riches and power. 

Djinn — lifeforms created directly from rukh. They wait deep within the dungeons, in another world, until their dungeon is raised and a challenger enters. If one is able to make it to the treasury, the djinn will judge them to determine whether they have the qualifications of a king and, if so, bestow their great power unto this vessel. 

King vessels — those that have received a djinn’s acknowledgement and support. By drawing on the djinn’s power, they can wield extreme magic beyond even magicians, and with this power, they are destined to make their will a reality. 

“I see,” Mogamett murmured, once Alibaba’s story had concluded. His thick brows furrowed in deep thought — and also a glowing, unmistakable fascination. “Djinn, beings of great magic from a long lost era... and you were selected by one of them. Even as a goi, you must be a remarkable one indeed.” 

He smiled again, warm and welcoming enough that Alibaba couldn’t help smiling back even as he tried to demure, flushing, “No, no, I’m not anyone particularly special. I was just lucky that Aladdin was with me.” 

Mogamett chuckled, letting him be. 

But, slowly, the pleasant atmosphere grew serious. 

“The thing is... I think something might have gone wrong when we were returning from Amon’s dungeon,” Alibaba said, his expression growing troubled. “I don’t know what happened, but could you check if there’s anything... off about me?” 

This was a rather vague request and he left out several points, but there was a reason for that — Alibaba wanted to start from the beginning again, in terms of creating a hypothesis. Yunan and Scheherazade had agreed on the same assumptions, but in the end, they were only assumptions, which Amon even said should have not been possible. And they didn’t line up correctly. 

Alibaba had slowly become more and more aware of it as time went on. 

The strange things he had written off at first just kept piling up. 

Why was he able to wield Amon’s power so well? Even Sinbad, whose instincts were exceptional, took at least some time to work out his weapon equip and still could not go further. But any time Alibaba pressed himself to fight, the way to use his metal vessel came to him with the same ease of long practice as his swordsmanship. 

Why did he feel like he recognized the strange black rukh that the magician Falan used in Valefor’s dungeon? Why did it bring such a sense of terror to him? 

Why did he keep thinking of Cassim? Of Morgiana, whom he barely knew? Of the Fan, of the Kou Empire, of things he shouldn’t have known, really? 

And when he tried to go back to the start and think it over again in his head, he realized... When he told Yunan what had happened from his perspective, he hadn’t left anything out. The last thing he remembered before crashing into Sinbad was Amon sending them out. 

...At that time. That was the last thing he remembered at that time. 

So why was it that, now, he remembered returning to Qishan? Using half his treasure to buy out the slaves there? Meeting Morgiana and waiting for Aladdin? 

Just what was it that had happened to him? 

Mogamett peered at him closely and finally made a sound of agreement. There was a certain understanding in his gaze, as if he could see through Alibaba’s concerns. Perhaps he could. After all, he had lived and studied magic for many decades. There were many, many things that he had seen. 

“Of course,” the old headmaster said, smiling. “Now hold still...” 

Lifting his large, gnarled hand, he waited until Alibaba nodded, then reached out and placed it carefully atop his head. It was heavy and warm, reminding Alibaba of when he was still a child and the adults in the slums would sometimes pat him on the head, to praise him or comfort him. 

“Let’s see here, hm...” Mogamett hummed to himself, closing his eyes and concentrating. Although he seemed to be doing something, Alibaba couldn’t feel any difference. “There is no illness or injury. Your rukh is bright and active, just as it looks...” 

“Yunan and Lady Scheherazade didn’t see anything either,” Alibaba admitted. 

“Lady Scheherazade? Reim’s High Priestess?” Mogamett repeated, faltering for a moment in surprise. However, he composed himself quickly. “Then most likely, you are fine. She is a truly great magician, although I worry about her fighting all alone in that faraway place... All the same, I will check thoroughly, how is that?” 

“Uh... yes, thank you.” 

This time, Alibaba thought he could feel a faint sense of perhaps humming, or a tingling passing over his skin. Even so, there was no strain or pain, and his mind began to drift as he sat still under the headmaster’s examination. 

Then finally— 

“...Ah,” Mogamett said quietly 

“What? What is it?” Alibaba demanded, raising his head against the weight of his hand. 

“I’m not sure,” Mogamett admitted, drawing back and stroking his beard slowly. “There is no issue with your magoi circulation. In fact, it’s quite strong. Your rukh is also all your own and very clear. But there is something that feels a little strange... just according to my intuition.” He closed his eyes, considering for a moment, and finally asked, “Your memory... have you had any problems?” 

Alibaba’s eyes widened, and he drew a deep breath in surprise. 

That was exactly the issue, wasn’t it? 

~.~ 

Headmaster Mogamett had knowledge of many disciplines of magic, but branches related to the mind were not his specialization. Many other magicians in wide-brimmed, pointed hats were called in, and Alibaba was asked to move to several different rooms and sit in the middle of increasingly complex magic circles carved into the smooth floors, while the magicians of the academy chanted and waved their staves. 

Their expressions ran from disinterest, to concentration, to confusion, to something very strange, something almost like adulation. In the last attempt, the rukh was thick enough that even Alibaba could see it. It really... didn’t give him a good feeling. 

In the end, he was led back to the headmaster’s office. 

Sighing, Alibaba made his way over to the desk and picked up the dagger he had left there, in case Amon’s vessel somehow interfered with the magic investigation. 

He had realized that something wasn’t right, but having it confirmed left him unsettled and on edge. He wished there was something he could do, instead of just waiting. There had always been times when he could only endure, but even in the slums and in the desert, he had at least needed to keep moving forward every day and the motions of that kept him grounded. 

But if it was magic, what could he do? 

If Amon had been able to help, the matter would have been already resolved long ago. And Alibaba had no magic skills of his own. 

So all he could do was obediently follow the magicians’ instructions — and pace the headmaster’s office afterwards. 

He had long since lost track of how many times he’d circled the room when the thick wooden door finally opened and Mogamett stepped inside. He gestured, and the door closed behind him with a smooth click. This was necessary because both his hands were occupied, one with his customary staff, the other with a simple chalice. 

Alibaba stepped forward to help, but Mogamett waved him aside, and both of them moved back to the desk. When the headmaster set it down, Alibaba could see that the chalice contained what looked like clear water, but there was something slightly off about the way it moved, as if it was thicker than it should have been. 

As they settled across from each other, Mogamett steepled his hands, watching Alibaba thoughtfully. 

Finally, he sighed and began to speak. 

“As you can probably guess, we found an abnormality,” he said. “It was very subtle, but a spell had been used to suppress some of your memories at some point in the past.” 

Before Alibaba could say anything, Mogamett held up one hand. 

“Don’t worry, it was only a suppression. Nothing was altered or rewritten. It was even done very carefully, so as not to cause you any difficulties.” He paused, studying Alibaba again. “It’s as if that magician was focused foremost on being gentle. In fact, that is the reason you became aware of it. They were  _ too  _ gentle, so the spell began to come undone after a while.” 

“...In other words, you don’t think it was an enemy?” 

“I cannot guess what the circumstances may have been, but they must have had their reasons. They are a magician, after all,” Mogamett said simply. “Now then... it is possible for us to remove the memory suppression spell from you, but it may be simpler and safer to let it unravel on its own instead. The mind is a complex thing, and there is always a danger when trying to meddle with it.” 

“O-oh...” Alibaba nodded slowly. 

He should have expected something like this, but it was still... 

It was just too unreal. Naturally, he couldn’t remember how or why this might have happened. He was just an ordinary person. Even his background as Balbadd’s third prince was ultimately nothing remarkable to the world at large. The only magician he remembered meeting was Aladdin. So why in the world would someone have bothered to suppress his memories? What could he have possibly seen or been involved in, to warrant that? 

It didn’t seem like it could have happened to someone like him. What kind of life had he ended up leading after getting Amon? How did it lead to him ending up in this world? 

He couldn’t imagine that for himself. Closing his eyes, Alibaba furiously rubbed at his forehead to dispel the building headache behind his eyes. 

Unexpectedly, the headmaster’s large hand settled on top of his head again, petting gently but firmly. “There, there,” the old man said. “Settle down. It’s not so bad — there is one more thing.” 

“Huh? What is it?” Alibaba wondered. There was something slightly strange about Mogamett’s tone, but he was in no state of mind to think deeply about it. 

Nodding, Mogamett drew back. “We found something in your rukh. It was very carefully hidden, but I imagine it would come forward if the spell unravelled completely. A failsafe, of sorts. It’s nothing malicious either. Rather, it’s a message. We extracted it. Would you like to see?” 

He gestured to the chalice he had brought with him, standing on the table between them. The water inside rippled faintly. 

Alibaba swallowed, looking at it as if expecting it to attack. Slowly, he nodded. 

Deftly bringing his staff, Mogamett tapped the rim of the chalice, and the liquid inside shifted, no longer quite like water at all. It gathered together, rising up in the center in a vague, blobby shape. Something like a head gradually emerged, along with a strange little loop leading down from it. The shape raised one stubby ‘arm’ and waved. 

“Ya, Alibaba!” it greeted in a tinny voice. 

...It sounded almost indistinguishable, completely unlike a person. And yet. 

This was certainly...

“Aladdin,” Alibaba murmured, stunned. 

Mogamett’s eyes darted toward him, but he did not let his concentration waver from maintaining the spell for playing out the message. 

Naturally, this small bit of rukh could not respond. It was only meant to convey what had been recorded in it. “If you are hearing this — and maybe you’re seeing it too, I’m not sure how it’ll go — then it means my spell was broken someone. Maybe it stopped working after awhile, I wasn’t sure whether it would last, or maybe you broke through it... But you probably have a lot of questions.

“That’s why I’m here to tell you not to worry!”

He could just imagine the wide smile on Aladdin's face as he played dumb. “What 'not to worry'?!” Alibaba demanded, slamming his hands onto the surface of the desk and making the water figure ripple. “How am I supposed to not worry?!” 

This dumb brat! 

Although it couldn’t see him, the water droplet Aladdin nodded its head sagely. “You always end up worrying too much and freaking out. It's very uncool, Alibaba. That's why we did it like this." Pausing, it raised one stubby arm and scratched its head. 

"It's like this... at the end, in Balbadd, another rukh merged with yours," it began to explain, picking its words carefully. "But then it was removed, a while later. You'll be okay, I promise, but... you won't be able to remember what happened in between, at least not clearly." 

None of this made sense to Alibaba, but Mogamett nodded in understanding. The rukh were part of everything in the world, after all, and carried memories and the spirits of the deceased into the great flow. Merging with another rukh... would have made him partially another person, in a way. The memories from that time only partially belonged to him... or something like that. 

But even so—

"A lot of things happened. So much, I don't even know how to explain it. We solved all of it! Everything is fine! But... we couldn't go back," the water figure went on, gesturing with its stubby arms. At the last part, it drooped, hanging its head. "And there's a good chance we won't be able to meet again. That's why... we thought it would be easier for you to think that it was just the gate from Amon's dungeon going awry." 

In a very small voice, it added, "But I guess it didn't work. You probably ended up worrying a bunch anyway, huh?"

Sighing gustily, Alibaba ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I did," he muttered. 

And yet, he couldn't work up any anger, only a frustrated sort of annoyance — and a growing sense of dread. It seemed like he'd known and agreed with this, and he trusted that Aladdin had done the best he could. And, beyond that, the situation sounded...

'We couldn't go back' 

'We won't be able to meet again' 

What in the world happened? For them to somehow perform the magic to cross dimensions, which Yunan and Scheherazade judged to be completely beyond the capabilities of any modern magician? For that to be the only option? 

...It had been something beyond words. Even though he couldn't remember anything, Alibaba's stomach lurched even just trying to imagine it, a memory so strong it lingered despite everything — like the black rukh that had paralyzed him with horror he couldn't explain. 

"It's probably pretty scary, ending up all by yourself like that. I'm sorry," the water droplet Aladdin went on. "But! You should have met Uncle Sinbad, right? I think I timed it right... Although he's not an uncle yet. He should already be someone amazing, so it would be good if you two can look after each other. 

"I don't want you to end up alone. 

"And I don't want you to worry anymore either. Me, and Morgiana, and Balbadd are all fine. Even though we can't share any more adventures, I know we'll keep each other in our hearts. So all you need to do is find your place in that world, in Balbadd or Sindria or anywhere you like, and just be happy. Please be happy. Okay, Alibaba?"

That was the end of the message. 

The faint glow of Mogamett's magic lasted for a moment longer, the small figure of water undulating, its lumpy head lowered. Alibaba mirrored its posture, his expression shadowed. 

Then, finally, it burst apart, leaving only clear water gathering at the bottom of the chalice. Its surface gradually stilled, reflecting the ornately carved ceiling if the headmaster's office, Mogamett's weathered, pensive expression, and Alibaba, staring blankly into the cup. 

The image scattered into ripples as a drop landed inside, followed by another and another. 

Reaching up, Alibaba hastily wiped his face. But for some reason, he just couldn't stop crying. 

~.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked this also when I posted certain parts of this chapter on Tumblr. 
> 
> What animal do you suppose Mogamett sees Alibaba as?


	14. A new world

~.~

**Chapter 11: A new world**

With Rashid’s support, Sinbad had been able to complete the application process to the trade union and the misculae of opening Sindria Trading Company’s first store in record time, and the shelves had already been emptied by enthusiastic customers by the time the others returned from Imuchakk. Even with their help, the days were hectic — running the store, keeping track of their stock, and of course sailing straight back to Imuchakk for more. 

It was months before Sinbad finally had time to relax and think again about his future plans. It wasn’t to say that anything had changed about his goals or his vision, but it had begun to take shape in a way he hadn’t been able to imagine before. 

He would change the world. He would create a country. But because one country, even as powerful as Reim, couldn’t make the world to its liking, he would create a federation of many nations, leading them to create a better, happier world — without war, without hunger, without the hopelessness of nowhere to turn. 

And to do all that, he needed influence. 

Power, money, fame, they were all tied together, and he needed all of them to create the necessary foundation. 

Well, the first thing Sindria needed was simply  _ more people. _ Sinbad and his closest comrades, no matter how capable, couldn’t do everything. 

They needed to sell more, in more places, from more places. To find more nations to partner with, Sinbad would look far and wide. But for opening Sindria Company’s second office, there could only be one place. Leaving Rurumu in charge of the Napolia branch, he set sail. 

The first thing Sinbad did when arriving in Balbadd was to go see his mother. He had never been separated from her for so long before, and even knowing that she was living comfortably and safely hadn’t quite eased his lingering worries. Esra laughed as he swept her up in a tight embrace, hugging back just as tightly. 

“Oh, you’ve grown so much!” she said, stroking his hair. “Come, come, let me look at you. Mm, just like your father, so handsome. How many hearts have you charmed, hm? I bet you’ve been a real menace.” 

“Heheh, I do look good, don’t I?” Sinbad bragged as he stepped back and preened. 

She was right. He had grown enough to need new clothing — again, even though he’d changed after arriving in Napolia from Imuchakk. He was already the same height has her and steadily edging upward. Beaming with overflowing excitement and affection, Sinbad couldn’t help hugging her again. Laughing, Esra let him do was he pleased. 

Although she was doing better, less terribly thin and with a healthy color to her complexion, Sinbad soon urged her to a chair, before beginning to introduce his motley crew. 

He left out the murder attempts and their exact history as assassins, but Vittel and Mahad still fidgetted guiltily as they bowed and greeted his mother. Ja’far was even worse, flushing a deep red and looking everywhere except Esra. Even Hinahoho was unusually clumsy and uncertain as he stooped closer to her level and ducked his head in greeting. 

It all made Sinbad want to laugh even more. They’d shown less uncertainty facing down Valefor, but his mother with her gentle smile made them trip over themselves. 

“Oh, and about Ali…” he started to say, remembering suddenly that he had left with one friend and returned with four different ones, which they hadn’t yet explained in detail. 

“He came back a while ago,” Esra said unexpectedly. She paused, frowning a little and exchanging a look with Anise, who had been deferentially waiting nearby during their reunion. “Ah, actually… he’s been a little strange. Sin, you should talk to him.” 

Strange? 

That was enough to make Sinbad frown in turn, before he quickly smoothed out his expression. 

“Of course,” he agreed easily. 

Too easily, it turned out, because actually talking to Alibaba became much more difficult than he’d expected. The first few days, Sinbad was admittedly preoccupied with other matters — visiting the royal palace to pay his respects to King Rashid, finding out the requirements for trading in Balbadd, setting his subordinates to locate a suitable building, and so on. The entire time, he didn’t catch even a glimpse of Alibaba at their manor, and that didn’t change even when Sinbad finally went to look for him. 

He was never in his room and never around at mealtimes. He didn’t seem to ever pass through the entrance hall, and he certainly didn’t go to the garden. Only the guards had seen him, going in and out at odd times. 

Giving up, Sinbad tried asking Anise, who was the one most familiar with him among the staff — even setting aside their unknown history.

“Sir Ali? He’s been visiting the businesses he invested in and the people he gave loans to. He was following new leads too,” she said. That made sense, and Sinbad nodded, in between making faces at her young son. Apparently the boy had forgotten Sinbad while he was gone and was now being shy around this strange new person. “He’s also… been visiting the slums. He was helping people there find work, or helping fix things.” 

The first one made sense, but the second one made Sinbad raise his eyebrows in surprise. “In the slums?” he repeated. 

As he looked up at Anise from where he’d crouched to tease the very small Alibaba, the boy peeked out from behind his mother’s skirts and looked at Sinbad with interest. He resembled both Anise and the adult Alibaba very much, though his face was much rounder and his short, soft hair a golden brown somewhere between the two. 

When Sinbad glanced back and smiled, the boy ducked out of sight again. 

Sinbad clicked his tongue, straightening. This kid, acting all cute… Esra had plenty of stories to tell about how excitable he was normally. 

“Yes, the place we used to live. But the reason…” Anise said, reaching down to pat her son on the head. “I don’t know. He seems very familiar with it, but why would a person like him…” 

A ‘person like him’, huh? It was a strange thing to say. Not because Sinbad disagreed, though he wasn’t sure whether he did or not, but because Anise couldn’t have possibly actually missed seeing Alibaba’s face. He wasn’t consistent about actually hiding it, so she had to know. To say it like that, did she not recognize him after all? Were they really strangers, after all? 

That couldn’t be right. Then… Alibaba knew her, but she didn’t know him…? 

Finding no plausible answer even after turning the matter over in his mind, Sinbad set it aside — again. 

“Should I look for him there?” he asked instead. 

Anise shook her head quickly. “Young master, that wouldn’t be a good idea. You don’t know your way around, and the slums aren’t very welcoming to outsiders. It could be trouble if you go.” 

If his mother was the madam of the house, then naturally Sinbad was the young master. Unlike Alibaba and Esra, he didn’t try to correct Anise’s way of addressing him. After all, ‘young master’ was nothing compared to his intended future title of ‘your majesty’. 

He could understand her point. Even when he and Esra had been poor, Sinbad had been a fisherman, not a slum-dweller, and nowadays he looked nothing short of rich. And even if he stripped off his expensive accessories and clothing, he would still stand out just walking down a back alley — with his confidence, his looks, everything. Sinbad had always been better at drawing attention than at keeping a low profile. 

He was sure he would come out on top in the end, but why ask to be mugged when it wasn’t necessary? 

Not necessary yet, anyway. 

“Does he at least come back to sleep, do you think?” Sinbad wondered, a bit exasperated. 

“Sometimes,” Anise said. “The maids say there’s things out of place or the sheets need to be changed. But... not every night.” 

She had started out as a maid herself, but with the additional responsibilities that had been given to her over time, Anise’s role was closer to a head servant or even an estate’s steward. Even though Esra had slowly begun to take a more active role in managing the manor as her health improved, the servants generally still reported to Anise. 

And what they didn’t report directly, they gossiped. 

Naturally, Alibaba was a very popular source of gossip in the first place, much less with his strange behavior after returning. 

“Our Sir Ali has become quite a delinquent,” Sinbad tittered, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “But don’t worry, Miss Anise! I’ll have him straightened out in no time!” 

Anise nodded, her expression grave but her eyes twinkling. “We can only count on you, young master.” 

As Sinbad departed, the small Alibaba hiding behind her finally peeked out again. Staring after him with a serious expression, he finally looked up at his mother and parroted seriously, “Youn’ master.” 

His nose scrunched up as Anise ruffled his hair. “That’s right,” she said. “And if you ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell you lots of interesting stories about his adventures. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Her son didn’t respond, only turning to look again in the direction Sinbad had gone, his expression comically deep in thought. Finally, he nodded. 

He liked stories. It would be pretty fun indeed. 

~.~ 

The delinquent Sir Ali returned home two days later, long past nightfall. Alibaba was unaware that he had been affixed with this kind of label, and he would have protested fervently, if he had known. It wasn't as if he was doing something shady! And while perhaps not fitting to society's perceptions of upstanding, the places he had been going were hardly dens of crime and immorality either. 

He just got carried away sometimes. It would be dark before he knew it, and it just seemed easier to spend the night in the slums, in one of their old hideaways or some place like them. 

Compared to the manor, those abandoned little boltholes known only to the street rats felt more familiar, even after all this time. 

...He just couldn't get used to it. 

He understood — he couldn't go back. This world, even if it wasn't where he was born, was to be his home now. It was where he would live on, just like Aladdin had asked him to. It was his new home. There were even already people he cared about here, the younger Anise, Sinbad, and a growing number of others. That was why he had started trying to make things better, to fix the things he had been unable to do anything about as a child in Balbadd, and maybe pay off his debt in some small, distant way by preventing the slums from suffering so much in the future. 

He knew and accepted all this. He tried to keep moving forward, as best as he could. And yet, he just couldn't get used to it at all. To the manor, to his own wealth, to Anise who didn't recognize him. Even as he kept himself busy, there was a ceaseless feeling of restlessness and tension thrumming at the back of his mind. 

Sighing, Alibaba rubbed at his bruised knuckles. 

With everything going on, he had realized embarrassingly late that certain things would not play out as before. Specifically, since her life had been changed so early, Anise would no longer have any reason or opportunity to even meet Cassim and Mariam, much less take them in under her wing. And who could say what would happen to them without her, especially given... everything with their father. 

Alibaba didn't regret punching the drunkard in the face when he went looking for the young versions of his childhood friends, but it was hardly a long-term solution. 

Could he ask Anise to look after them, and set history back on track? Or... 

Sighing again, Alibaba stopped in front of the door to his room and silently began to ease it open. He had only returned to pick up some things and check his records before moving forward with his next effort — negotiating with one of his investments about hiring a few more workers from among the slumfolk, who would at least have the opportunity to provide for their families. Then he’d be out again come morning, keeping himself busy to avoid dwelling too much. 

But as he slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him, Alibaba froze in surprise. 

There was a figure in the window, silhouetted by the clear moonlight. 

Meeting his eyes, Sinbad smiled and held up a finger to his lips. He nodded toward Alibaba’s bed — where a small lump was curled up among the cushions. His younger self, fast asleep after trying to play ambush with Sinbad and listening to his stories late into the night. 

Alibaba, who hadn’t even realized that Sinbad and his group had returned to Balbadd, took a moment to regain his bearings. 

Getting ambushed like this, he was reminded of Morgiana sneaking into his room to abduct him back then. But more than that, he suddenly and strongly remembered the adult Sinbad he and the others had met in Balbadd. This was his first time seeing Sinbad since his memories had more or less returned, and the first time he could compare the future king with his child self. 

The future Sinbad had smiled a lot, but it had been very different. 

Blinking quickly, Alibaba cleared away the double image. When Sinbad pointed upward, seemingly toward the ceiling, he nodded in understanding. 

Silently, they slipped out the window and clambered up onto the manor’s flat roof. As usual in Balbadd, the night was warm, but a steady breeze blew toward the sea, making the air feel fresh and cool. The dark sky was clear, scattered with stars that Alibaba habitually linked into the major constellations for navigation. 

The sky, at least, was the same in both worlds. 

Sinbad watched him with a patient smile, propping his head up with one arm. Feeling suddenly awkward, Alibaba cleared his throat. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I didn’t realize you’re back.” 

“Mm, for a while now. Seems like you’ve been busy,” Sinbad noted. He grinned. “Want to tell me about it? Or do you want to hear about my great adventures first? I’ve been told it’s a very good story!” He puffed up, preening. 

It was an easy out, and Alibaba was halfway to accepting when he unexpectedly found himself hesitating. 

Agreeing would just be running away again. Hadn’t Morgiana had the right of it, back then when she had enough and just dragged him off to see Aladdin? Making them talk to each other had been just what they needed, because Alibaba had never been a person who could accomplish things on his own. Back then, now, he hadn’t been able to make any headway, no matter how hard he struggled to keep going. 

Sinbad had never pressed for answers, even though it wasn’t possible for him to have missed all the strange things about Alibaba. But didn’t he deserve an explanation? Didn’t he deserve Alibaba’s trust? 

‘It would be good if you two can look after each other.’ 

‘I don't want you to end up alone.’ 

That was what Aladdin had said. He had arranged their meeting — their headlong collision — on purpose, just so that Alibaba would have... a friend. 

His shoulders slumped as he let out a silent breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Looking up at the stars, he slowly picked out the words. 

“I... went to Musta’sim Kingdom,” he started. “To their magic academy. I wanted to see if they knew anything about traveling between dimensions.” His lips twitched. “They didn’t.” 

“That’s the same thing you tried to ask Valefor about,” Sinbad said. 

Alibaba nodded. “I asked the High Priestess in Reim too. Those are all things Yunan suggested trying, when I told him about what happened.” He paused, his hands clasping tightly as he made several false starts to just  _ say it. _ “The thing is... I’m, I’m not from this dimension. This world.” 

“...Ah,” Sinbad made a soft sound. 

“It’s a lot like this world, the one I’m from. It’s almost the same,” Alibaba went on, the words coming quickly now that he’d started. “The same countries, the same people, everything. Except that it’s the future. It’s fourteen years later. I was in Qishan, fourteen years after the first dungeon was conquered, and then afterwards I was in Partevia, and there was... there was you.” 

“There was me,” Sinbad agreed. “With Baal.” 

He sounded thoughtful, but not... as surprised as Alibaba would have expected. 

His expression, when Alibaba snuck a glance at him, was considering but not in the least troubled. “So it’s like that,” Sinbad said finally, nodding to himself. “I see, it makes sense. So then Miss Anise is your mother, and that’s why you knew about Valefor. And all this time, you were looking for a way back. I see, I see.” However, as the things that didn’t make sense connected in his mind, his brow slowly furrowed. “But if you’re moping around like this, then...” 

“...There isn’t a way back,” Alibaba said quietly. 

The silence felt very heavy. He had already known it, of course, but saying it outloud made it worse. 

“I have to live in this world,” he repeated what he had told himself countless times. 

But even so, he still couldn’t accept it. His debts in Balbadd, his promise to Aladdin, he would never be able to fulfill any of them. And that, he just couldn’t...

“—I’m a little jealous.” 

Eyes wide in surprise, Alibaba snapped his head around to stare at Sinbad, who chuckled. “I am,” he insisted, smiling wryly. “You know, I want to change the world. But for you, you change it just by being here. That’s right, isn’t it? This world was like your past, but it’s going to be different because you’re here.” He grinned. “Really, a man who can change the world! I’m jealous!” 

That was the last thing Alibaba expected, and he blinked at Sinbad blankly for a moment. “You—! Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s a good thing!” Alibaba protested. “What if I mess something up? Even with you...” 

He cut himself off, but it was already enough. Understanding sparked in Sinbad’s eyes, making his grin widen. 

“You know about the future me, huh? Right, you knew Baal! I’ll be famous, right? I’ll found a kingdom, just like I said?” he pressed excitedly. 

“Not if I mess it up!” Alibaba shot back, flustered. “That’s what I’m saying—!” 

Laughing again, Sinbad slapped him roughly on the back. “Don’t worry about it!” he declared. 

....That sounded like there should be more after it, but nothing followed. It seemed that Sinbad had said everything he felt necessary. Alibaba could feel his rigid expression twist in exasperation that had long since become familiar. 

“What ‘don’t worry'?!” Alibaba demanded with a sudden sense of deja vu. “How am I supposed to not worry? We’re talking about… about the fate of the world! And your fate too!” 

Aladdin, Sinbad, both of them! Why were his friends like this? 

Of course, Sinbad just kept on laughing. “Don’t worry, don’t worry!” he repeated. “Come on, have some faith in me! I’m Sinbad, the dungeon conqueror! I can see the flow of fate, and I’ll find my way no matter what. So what if it’s a little different? Isn’t it even better than just following someone else — even if it’s another me?”

...Typical. Sinbad’s grin was infuriatingly smug and self-confident, and Alibaba still felt like he wasn’t taking things seriously enough at all. They were talking about time travel and the future—

But maybe that didn’t matter that much, in the end. 

This was a different world. Sinbad was a person who could do anything, and he was right — he would find his way to greatness, regardless of any changes Alibaba’s presence caused. That was the kind of life he would lead, not because of fate, but because of his own nature and choices. 

It wasn’t just him. Was there really a right or wrong in a history that was still being written? There were things Alibaba wanted to prevent, of course. The suffering of his friends, the tragedies in the slums, everything that had happened with King Rashid’s death. But it was only natural that other tragedies might occur because of the things he changed. 

It was always like that. It was just part of living. 

The things he couldn’t get back wouldn’t change. But he still had a future. A future Aladdin had worked hard to make for him, in whatever had gone wrong in their world. 

He had even made sure that Alibaba would have a friend to rely on. 

“But you know, if you’re still worried...” that friend said, wiggling his eyebrows as he sidled up to Alibaba, “you can just leave it to me. I’ll create a whole new world that no one’s ever seen — not even you. So just believe in me, and become my—” 

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” Sinbad protested. 

“I believe in you,” Alibaba said — smiling, because it was true. It had always been true. “But didn’t you say it’s better to find your own way, instead of following someone? Besides, there are still thinks I need to do.” 

Even if they didn’t know him and weren’t really the people he knew, he still wanted to help them — Anise, Cassim and Mariam, Morgiana… Maybe even Aladdin, in the far future when he appeared again. And there was also still that organization out there, moving to create abnormalities in the world, just like in Balbadd. 

Even if he couldn’t accept it yet, Alibaba would continue moving forward. 

Sighing a little, Sinbad nonetheless smiled. “Alright. But don’t forget you can always ask me for help,” he said. “Personal stuff, or things you can’t explain, it doesn’t matter, you can count on me.” 

“I know. You’re a pretty reliable guy,” Alibaba agreed, echoing Aladdin’s message wryly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he smiled too. “You can count on me too. Let’s create a new world, Sin.” 

And someday, this world would become his home. 

~.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I think I mentioned elsewhere, this is the end of part 1 of 2. Part 2 would cover the rest of the SnB timeline after the two year timeskip, meaning the fun times in... Mariadel and Parthevia, because we all love those. 
> 
> However, I haven't actually written part 2, only outlined it. I hope to complete it someday, but for now, this can be considered the end. Thank you to everyone for sticking with me all the way! It's great to see that Magi still has so many fans :')

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [and fate has led me here, but i will be the one to choose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828741) by [OMGTHEFEEL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGTHEFEEL/pseuds/OMGTHEFEEL)




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